#did I die and come back to life writing this? take a wild guess
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accident. | JP x Reader
PAIRING: Javier Peña x Wife!Reader
SYNOPSIS: we all make accidents. javier forgetting to pick you up at the train station was an accident. you forgetting to bring an umbrella was an accident. throwing a knife at your husband? you’re going to have prove that one was an accident to him.
WC: 3.6k
WARNINGS: SMUT, angst, mentions of weapons and knives, reader throws a knife at javier *just read you’ll find out*, implied age gap, established relationship, javier is a bit older than reader, domestic au, slight dom!javi, mentions of food and cooking, profanity, bratty!reader, reader is mean but javier can be meaner, floor sex, creampie, unprotected sex, spanking, handcuffs, cum eating, brief oral (f recieving), slight non-con, rough sex, praise, degradation, post-sex sweetness, not proofread.
AUTHORS NOTE: obsessed and mentally ill. so here’s slightly dom!javi with a ton of angst
A headache ensues in Javier’s mind.
He tries to combat it with the clouds of smoke rising through the air, the comfortable scent of tobacco and cigarettes filling his nose as he takes a drag from the stick perched in between his blistered fingers, this inhale, longer than the last.
Today had been shit. It really had. All day he had been cooped up in the office with stacks of paperwork almost taller than himself, tossed onto him and Murphy's desk by the higher ups, a high demand for deadlines with their patience being low.
Javier had been sitting in his office for almost seven hours straight, looking at papers with tiny writing and filing reports with pen until sensitive pink blisters formed around a hand that should’ve been driving and carrying a gun today, out in the field on a mission another team had instead been tasked with.
He’s getting old for this stuff, and he knows its true when he feels a strain in his back from shifting in his seat.
Maybe that’s why they shoved the paperwork in the old man’s hands.
Javier leans forward, grabbing his almost empty pack of cigarettes from his desk, deciding a fourth one was necessary for tonight.
“Javier,” a voice calls for him, looking up when he sees the new secretary holding the phone facing her chest. “You’ve got a call”
“From who” he says gruffly, brows furrowed. He lights the cigarette with his lighter, tossing it onto his desk and taking another puff.
“It’s your wife,” The secretary states. “she’s asking what you want for dinner.”
Javier stops in the middle of flicking the ashes, letting the cigarette sit warm in his fingers when he turns his head so he could see her correctly.
Your sweet voice calls out through the receiver, a chill running down Javier's spine when he makes out that it really is you.
“Yeah, Sherry, it’s fine if he’s busy, just let him know I called. Tell him dinner’ll be late tonight, at around 10.” you piped up sweetly, saying goodbye to your husband's secretary before hanging up the call.
She leaves after telling him what he already heard, but Javier is quick to immediately put out the burning cigarette and quickly grab his coat, making his way out the office.
“Peña, Where are you going? We only got a few more stacks left” Murphy calls out, hair in a mess from the many stressful tugs and his own cigarette nestled in between his fingers.
“my wife.” Javier replies, suddenly not liking the bitter taste in his mouth.
“It’s raining outside, you’re gonna get drenched” the blonde tells him, shaking his head as he took a drag from his own cancer stick.
Javier stops in his tracks, looking outside the window to see his partner was right. It was pouring out there, hardly able to even make out the cars in the parking lot.
Him getting wet was the least of his worries. It was you, he was thinking of.
“Fucking hell.”
_
You set the receiver down on the living room table. The ticking of the clock resonating in the silent house before a sigh finally escaping your lips.
Droplets of rain water cloud your vision, cheeks pink from the cold as water dripped onto your wooden floorboards.
Fists clench and unclench around the handle of the umbrella given to you by an old lady at the train station.
“A girl like yourself shouldn’t be alone in the rain, mija” she insisted, letting you take her frilly umbrella as her son would pick her up shortly.
Javier was supposed to pick you up too.
But after forty minutes of standing out in the rainy weather under a flimsy roof as you waited for his truck to pick you up, you disappointedly caught a taxi and drove home by yourself
You were returning from your visit to your sick grandmother. You were her only granddaughter who she called the week prior, telling you how she missed you and wanted you to visit.
Javier insisted you went, not wanting to hold you back and assured he would come to pick you up at the station after the weekend spent with her.
What a fucking liar, you thought to yourself.
You quickly undressed your wet clothes, the outcome of having to have walked in rain to find an available taxi this evening.
You're curious to see the look on Javier’s face when you make him beg on his knees and ask for forgiveness. Maybe you wouldn’t even kiss him tonight, thinking in silence as you prepared for dinner.
You definitely weren’t trying to think about what an excellent opportunity this was to be a brat.
—
Javier parks into his quiet drive way exactly thirty minutes before 10. That’s thirty minutes of trying to get on your good graces and pray that he wouldn’t be sleeping outside tonight.
When he opens the door to the house, his heart beats fast. Prepared to see you ready to lash out at him, he’s instead surprised with the aromas of spices and your homemade cooking wafting to his nose, unconsciously realizing that he skipped lunch today from how caught up he was with work.
Picking up your wet jacket from the floor, Javier slots his keys and sunglasses in the bowl by the entrance, hanging his own jacket as well before he makes his way quietly to the glowing kitchen.
The stovepot is on a low boil, and he sees you in a long t-shirt, one that you made sure wasn’t his. Your hair is damp, probably from a shower as you swiftly work your hands away in prepping the vegetables.
Javier mumbles quietly in a gruff voice. “You, uh, left your coat on the floor.”
Thwack.
An aggressive chop at the carrots replaces your words, each cut piercing louder like a gunshot ringing in his ears.
“Hermosa, I am so sorry.“ Javier begins sighing because he knows he fucked up real bad this time.
Thwack. You moved onto the chicken meat.
“There’s no excuse baby, I wasn’t keeping track after being cooped up in the office today.” he sighs, brows furrowing as big brown eyes stared into your back.
Thwack. Thwack.
The DEA agent flinches at the sound of the raw chicken being butchered by your swift, angry hands. You’re not facing Javier directly and yet he can already see your glaring eyes. He sighs, not wanting to fight you. He tries to lighten the mood, voice soft as he comments.
“Qué te ha hecho ese pobre pollo”
You don’t reply, let alone acknowledge your husband, continuing to brutally dice the chicken on the cutting board before turning around to wash your hands.
Javier watches you swiftly work in your kitchen, feeling sorry as he still watches you prepare dinner for the two of you after such a long train ride.
He moves forward, rolling his sleeves as he tries to help you . “Querida, I’ll help with the pot-”
The clang of the knife hitting the cutting board echoes in the kitchen, finally looking up to face your husband. Javier leans back, resting against the kitchen counter, arms crossed and gun holsters unremoved after coming home.
You try to ignore how tired he genuinely looks, reminding yourself you were just the same when standing all alone for that one hour.
“Y’know what Javier?” You begin, eyes watering and nose twitching in anger. Javier stays silent, staring at you with sincerity.
“Fuck you” you spit, pointing an accusing finger at the man. “fuck you and your fucking DEA work, Javier”
“Mi-”
“I had to wait forty minutes outside in rainy weather, trying to see if every car passing by would be yours.” you said, voice breaking towards the end. You felt uncomfortable waiting by yourself.
Javier shuts his eyes, forehead wrinkling as he tries to calm you down. He draws your name out in a firm but gentle tone.
You ignore him, replacing his words with your attitude. “You always do this!” you exclaim, voice rising.
“Leaving your wife and family second while you think it’s cool to go and chase criminals while risking your goddamn life.” You mutter, glaring at your husband.
“I didn’t want to leave you at the station all alone, honey. I’ve been sitting at my desk since afternoon drowning in paperwork the higher-ups dumped on us” he presses, eyes sincere but patience wearing thin.
You scoff, shaking your head. “So even stupid paperwork makes you forget your wife.”
Javier pinches his nose bridge, his head pounding as he tries to communicate with you.
You go back to cutting your vegetables, mumbling under your breath. “Who the fuck in Bogotá is giving you credit for slaving away all day trying to catch Escobar, hm?”
The words pierce through Javier’s heart.
Your eyes light up in fake sarcasm. “Oh, I bet it’s the fact that you’re too busy being a fucking doormat to all the younger agents at work aren’t you? What, Murphy said he can’t do his share of the work so he gave you his leftovers?” You spit.
“Hey," Javier snapped, gruffly and darkly. He looked at you, eyes narrowed and dark. "Stop it. I've told you."
Anger gets the best of you as you turn to the cutting board. Grabbing the first thing you saw.
A carrot piece shoots in his way. Javier flinches, the food hitting his chest. Your husband stands there, stunned at his wife’s childish behavior.
“Go fuck yourself, Peña” you say menacingly.
“We don’t throw food in this house, mama” he barks, hands on the hips of his belt, gun and badge tucked in his back. He would never use them on you.
A celery stick slaps Javier in the face this time, making his patience hanging on by a thread even thinner.
Maybe he could whip out the handcuffs.
“Dont you fucking call me that!” you said spitefully, throwing anything and everything you could at the man who dodged your attacks.
“Querida!” Javier raises his voice at you, a growl in his words.
You felt the cold, hard material in your hands for a split second before you’re throwing it at him, almost wondering yourself why you were getting so angry at Javier.
You didn’t want to fight this bad, but at the same time you were sick of watching him work himself to death, forgetting about you. This wasn’t the first time he did something like this.
But you already crossed that line. You both stand in silence, holding your breath as you realized what you threw.
Now it was your turn to fuck things up.
Javier’s lip snarls and his mustache is in a scary frown when he shifts his head.
Only a few inches beside his face lands a dull potato knife, wedged in the kitchen cupboards above. It wouldn’t have worked on anything since it was unsharpened and unused, but the tremendous force you had thrown it with allowed it to have been lodged in the wood.
You gasp, hands flying to cover your mouth.
You both watch Javier slowly raise his hand, pulling the knife inches beside his head with ease before tossing it into the sink. The clatter of the metal blade hitting the sink rings in the kitchen. A swarm of guilt fills your chest as you stand still in fear.
“Javi… I-I’m so sorry” you say, heart beating against your chest, cautiously awaiting a reaction from him.
Javier dusts off the carrot peels on his shoulder, watching as his jaw tenses but shoulders relax.
“Come here.” he all but says quietly. You see Javier reaching for his back pocket, taking out his gun and badge and placing it on the counter.
That wasn’t what scared you.
What scared you was then seeing Javier pull out the silver handcuffs lodged in his back pocket. Your eyes widened at the sight of him playing around with them.
“Javi, I’ll go get the-“
“Come. Here.” Javier cuts you off, staring at you with dark eyes.
You swiftly shake your head, refusing to go. “It was an accident!” You exclaimed, dashing out the kitchen as you tried to escape Javier who was hot on your heels.
“Honey.” he says in a not so endearing way, a warning edge to his voice.
Tears littered your cheeks, knowing that you pushed Javier’s limits and that he would really punish you for how bratty you had been tonight.
You gasp, running up the stairs before strong arms encaged your frame, desperately trying to escape before shrieking in surprise as Javier hoisted you over his shoulder, a loud and painful smack being brought down to your ass by his strong hands. You grimaced, helplessly being brought to the kitchen in swift strides.
”It was an accident, I’m sorry, I was just so angry!” You wailed, groaning as your back hit the carpeted floors of your living room. Your vision was hazy, the dizziness getting to you as you saw Javier leave the room into the kitchen, and come back a few moments later. This time, he was unbuttoning his shirt, his forest of chest hair and strong muscles peeking through.
Javier took a deep breath, eying the way your t-shirt had hiked all the way up so your panties were showing. Your hair spread around your head like a halo, and he noticed how you clenched your thighs together in vulnerability.
“Some accidents need to be punished, baby” he muttered darkly.
You sobbed softly, nose red as you turned your head to the side, looking away from Javi’s menacing look. He didn’t mind, he knew once he was done messing with you, you would be clawing at his chest, begging him to fuck you properly while looking into his eyes. Javier leans down at your level, crawling on your body so he was on top and you were trapped on the bottom. He rips your t-shirt off of you, leaving you in your bare state with panties flimsy enough he could rip them with his teeth. Not today though, he had other things in mind.
He coos at your weak state, dropping his head so he could press a kiss to your sensitive neck, giving a small nip that made you yelp. Two large hands come to play with your nipples, pulling each one hard in between his fingers as you moaned hysterically.
“What did I say about being fucking mean?” He says roughly. He inhales your scent, smelling a sweet sense of fear.
“Carino,” a warm voice calls out, you can feel the grin spreading on Javier’s face. You cry in a mix of pain and pleasure when he flips you on your tummy, cheek pressing against the rough carpet material as Javier slots his hard member encased in his jeans, right by the curve of your ass.
“Answer me, mama”
A clinking of metal makes you cry out in protest. No, you wanted to say, feeling Javier cuff you behind your back like you were one of his petty drug thiefs. But a slap to your ass cheek makes you gasp, eyes shutting as Javier pulls your panties off.
”Being mean gets me punished” you responded softly, a pool of desire aching in your folds as you almost tutted your ass up to show him you were ready. ���I’m sorry, Javier” you sniffled quietly, hoping he would hear.
Javier laughs, cocking his head to the side as one hand groped the flesh of your bum, and the other undid his belt buckle. The sound makes your mouth water, wondering if he’ll let you suck him off too for forgiveness.
“So you do know how to be nice?” He groans, giving you no time before his hard members penetrates your entrance, head turning back and eyes rolling when you clenched around his dick so well. “Javier!” You screamed, eyes rolling back in pleasure from the strong stretch.
Your arms ached, desperate for release so you could brace yourself against the floor for every hard thrust your husband would give you.
“Listen carefully, querida” he moans into your ear, humping you as you moaned loudly. “You’re gonna be a good girl and let me fill you up, alright?” When there was no answer, he slapped your cheek again, this time echoing throughout the living room and leaving a red splotch on your ass. “Answer me.” He growled, patience growing thin from your pathetic wailing.
You grit your teeth, hating the fact that you were supposed to be mad at Javier for forgetting about you, and yet here you were receiving back shots with a stinging red ass.
”Yes, Javier” you said back, feeling his girth stretch your walls.
”Good. And once I’m done fucking my pretty wife, you’re gonna suck me off like you mean it. That sounds good mi amor?”
You nodded in return, eyes shut and panting like a slut from the feeling of Javier slowing down his thrusts, deepening every stroke.
“Yes, Javier” you repeated.
He smiled, kissing your neck sweetly, contrasting his hip movements. “Thank you, mama” he replied, cherishing your sweet moans and gasps as he went at a deeper, harder pace.
It’s delirious, the whole situation. You feel as though you’re on cloud nine with the way Javier is so possessive of you, caging you like a butterfly in his garden with the apple of desire.
You felt sinful. You felt glorious. You needed his release to fill you up so badly.
“Javi…” you muttered, tits starting to get carpet burn from being fucked against the ground.
“I know mama, you’re doing so good for me. Taking your lesson so well” he groans, sweat beading at his forehead.
You were aching and begging for orgasm, but feeling Javier rut into you so passionately made it all worth it. It dissolved any anger, any resentment from earlier because you knew how good he could take care of you.
“You’re so fucking mean sometimes, you know that?” he tells you, brows furrowed and concentrated on fucking the daylights out of you. You could feel the handprints marking your hips, wondering how many of Javier’s marks would be on you tomorrow morning.
“I know” you sigh, feeling a slap come down on your ass as you groan louder.
“You’re so fucking stubborn sometimes, you know that too?” you pant, squirming under your cuffs. Javier shudders, your walls sucking him a little too well.
“I know.” He says back gruffly.
Javier feels the knot untying in his stomach, too late to tell you verbally as you felt his warm seed leak inside, cumming first.
“Merida”
You were also close, loving how despite already coming, Javier was fucking you so that you could cum too.
”I’m gonna” you pant, forgetting to finish your words as you felt hot liquid threatening to spill from every stroke he made in your hole.
Javier whispers, pressing ticklish kisses from his mustache to your bare shoulder. “Cum on my cock, baby, you know what to do” he muttered, both of you groaning loudly as both your releases became mixed inside you.
“Oh fuck, Javi!” you scream, hair a mess and pussy aching.
You feel dizzy, used but happy, shivering as a large sludge of your cum spills out and drips down your thigh to the carpet.
Javier is quick to lap you up with his tongue, slotting his face in your ass as he filthily cleans you up.
“Can you get these off me, please?” you ask him meekly, relishing the feeling of your sensitive wrists when they touch the cool air.
Your husband presses a kiss to each one, marking your ass and shoulders with playful hickeys and bruises.
You both catch your breath for a moment, Javier turning you over so you were facing the ceiling, your sensitive tits perking up.
It’s all so sudden but before you two realize it, you’re latching onto each other immediately, hungrily sharing a kiss as your arms wrap around his neck.
“Hermosa,” he tries to begin, before being shushed by you, pulling him back in to lovingly kiss your husband.
Sure, rough sex was great, but god did you love just kissing Javier absentmindedly. You had to touch each other, kiss each other, that was how you two made up.
“Lo siento, hermosa” he sighs, wanting to get lost in your embrace. You smile, knowing that Javier is sincere. “Me too.” You reply, voices hushed as it was now later in the night, the neighbors probably aware of what had happened next door. A moment passes.
“Didn’t you say you wanted me to suck you off?” you asked innocently, gazing up at Javier as your head rested on his chest.
He grins, softly whispering a later as he played with your hair, cock soft against his thigh as your leg nudges it playfully.
He growls, nipping your ear. “Behave” he says firmly, cheeks rosy. This time you listen.
“Who picked you up today then if I didn’t come?” Javi asks, reaching over to wrap a blanket around you two near the fireplace.
You smile, knowing that you can’t always listen to Javier’s warnings. “Just some cute young taxi driver. Asked me for my number y’know” you grinned.
Javier looks down, eyes darkening as he mutters softly. “Unless you’re gonna be a brat again, you better watch yourself” he reaches for your mound, cupping you softly so you moan in pleasure, still sensitive from the previous activities. He hoists you above his stomach, feeling your nails scratch his pudge and bend down as you give him a kiss. “I’m just messing with you” you giggle, a familiar feeling coming back when his bare cock is nestled by your thighs. “He was old. A grandpapi” you said, feeling his hands roam the flesh of your ass.
You press a hand against Javier’s chest, giggling as you peck his jawline. He rolls his eyes, hands wrapping around your waist instinctively.
“I missed you.” he mutters, feeling you up.
You smile, remembering how warm it is on top of your husband before you shut your eyes softly.“Me too.”
You look up, apologizing to him. “Sorry for almost stabbing you with that knife”
You feel the vibrations and sounds of a loud chuckle, Javier holding on to you. “It was an accident” you mumble, circling shapes on his skin. He knows.
You make up for it by leaning in, pressing kisses under the shell of his ear. Whispering how you’ll let him stuff his cock in your mouth again to get even.
Fuck it, he thinks. He’d let you kill him anyday.
#fic: accident#javier pena fluff#javier pena x you#javier pena one shot#javier pena smut#javier pena fanfiction#javier pena imagine#javier pena fic#javier pena narcos#javier pena x reader#javier peña#javier pena angst#javier pena x y/n#javier peña x reader#javier peña x you#narcos smut#narcos#narcos fanfiction#pedro pascal fanfic#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal fluff#pedro pascal angst#divider credit: unknown pls dm#did I die and come back to life writing this? take a wild guess
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I’m having so many thoughts about @ammstify’s persona 6 idea for it being about nature and being based on Arthurian legend but as more of a spin-off but I’m in the “pacing while brainstorming” phase which means that I have too much energy to sit down and actually write down my ideas so I may as well start a post that’s like… just a bunch of ramblings about ideas. Have so at least it’s WRITTEN DOWN and I won’t forget anything. If I think enough I might even make a fanfic in the style of steal the truth (which you should absolutely read btw it’s genuinely one of the best video game adaptations with how well it integrates persona’s calendar mechanic and social links into its story structure) but that would require a lot of foresight and planning (hence why u want to WRITE SHIT DOWN)
Anyway here goes. Spoilers for something that I just made up but might make into an actual thing in the future I guess lol
The themes are about growth (there's LOTS of plant imagery), moving on, and how it gets better (the sun will always rise, darkest before dawn, etc. (there's a lot of day/night imagery as well)), and it looks at the relationship between humans and the environment.
The setting will probably be Kyoto, or at least some city, but I'm undecided about whether the characters are high school or uni students. Both have their pros and cons and I just have to figure them out. I'm leaning towards Uni?
The actual persona elements take place in the sea of souls, although it's more accurate to say the field of souls, as it's an undending field of grass, flowers, and the odd tree/hill, with every bit of flora representing a life. Select people will travel to the sea of souls in their sleep, but sleeping in the sea of souls won't get you out, so if someone is there without a way out, it looks like they're in a coma. If they happen to die in there (haven't completely figured out shadow mechanics yet, don't know if day/night cycles in the sos would be over a few weeks (to represent the collective unconscious) or over a characters journey (because it's cool imagery)) the body will start growing vines and leaves as their pulse slowly fades.
One way to get out is through the velvet room: In the sea of souls there is a battlefield, with velvet blue warbanners rising amongst the bloodstained foliage, and in the centre is a familiar long nosed man sitting on a particularly comfy looking rock, with a warrior clad in a deep blue leather armour brandishing a spear and shield. As neither protagonist is a wild card (whoops spoiler) Igor doesn't act as the guy who fuses your personas, he's like a guide both through your journey and on your way back to the real world. Maybe belladonna and nameless are also there, who knows.
Persona users have a body part wrapped in foliage, vines, flowers, and the like (the location can be thematic, it’s as if wrapped in chains), and when summoned the foliage chains break and rapidly grow into the summoned persona.
Protag A (who I shall refer to as Sun because that’s their arcana) is a kind young man who was diagnosed with cancer. This diagnosis comes shortly after moving to a new city to start university, so he rightly is in a lot of turmoil and feeling alone. One of the way he copes is by having a fairly dark cynical sense of humour, contrasting with his kind and caring personality. I’m not set on a subject he does, I’m thinking natural sciences, it’s got a wide range of topics and, most importantly, MATHS (this isn’t a joke). His starting persona is Arthur, his second awakening is Arturus Rex, both of the sun arcana, and his ultimate persona is Excalibur, of the world arcana.
Protag B (who I shall refer to as Moon) is a standoffish young woman in the year above sun. An abuse survivor, her father (her only living relative) recently was jailed for what he did, but she still holds a deep contempt for humanity who she thinks has failed her. Initially forced to interact with sun because of a scheme where second years help first years, she stays with him because of a shared goal once they enter the sea of souls. Her story arc is about growing to care for others, learning to see the good in people, and stopping seeking revenge. Her starting persona is Lancelot, who evolves into white knight, both of the moon arcana, and her ultimate persona is Galahad of the world arcana (I’m intentionally hiding some things but oh well lol. The personas are thought out, I’ll tell you that).
I’ve not settled on social links or party members, I’ve got a few ideas, like Sun’s maths professor (who would either be magician or hierophant) and the Lovers arcana, but nothing concrete.
Getting into real endgame spoilers now, the premise is that two gods, Pendragon and Morgan le Fay, are arguing over whether humanity should suffer or not. Pendragon thinks they're a stain on the world and should be wiped out, while Morgan le Fay thinks they should live in eternal bliss. Given that the themes are about moving on and growing, neither is very good, or rather, life is a combination of the two. They're represented by the moon and the sun in the sea of souls, when Pendragon is "winning" it's night, when Morgan is "winning" it's day. towards the end of the story the party beats Pendragon without realising that now Morgan le Fay is able to act unchecked and so the regular course of life grinds to a halt. During the course of the story each protagonist holds one in themself, Moon with her contempt for humanity holds pendragon, and Sun with his wish to live with his friends forever holds Morgan, but once Moon starts to see the good in humanity her mind boots out pendragon (hence why they fight him), and once Sun accepts that a life in stagnation isn't a life living at all, his mind boots out Morgan (hence why they fight her). Basically, I really really really like the ideas of third semester and am doing something similar lol.
At the start Sun and Moon are visited by a Doctor informing him of his cancer diagnosis and a chief prosecutor "congratulating" her about her father's loss in court respectively. Both talk about their fascination with/contempt of humanity, and end with "do you agree?", a cloaked agreement to a contract that makes them their champion, for these are Morgan le Fay and Pendragon in human forms. A side effect of tricking them into agreeing to a contract, however, is letting them into the velvet room, a mistake that would lead to both of the gods' downfall.
Ah shit I haven't even tackled how dungeons and stuff work. I know at least the last one is gonna be called Avalon.
I think I'm just gonna go ahead and post this for now, I might edit it later so uhhh stay tuned I guess
#Don't know what I'd call it though#Persona Green????#lmao#Actually remember “the green man” as that's an actual thing from folklore that'd work really well#Persona#Now I just need to think of names for everyone lmao#persona au#ocs#Oh also I don't know if this is obvious but#uhhhh#pendragon is a literal dragon LMAO#I know that's just arthur's last name but I really want a dragon final-ish boss soooooooo#fuck off
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Wife on her duty as a perfect wife i'm!
For the asking game, babe. Give me what i need... 3, 4, 14, 17, 19, 30, 35, and 43 (even tho i already know the answer).
Lov u sfm🖤
omg it was a joke luv <3
3. Describe the creative process of writing a chapter/fic
I'm the worst person to answer this I have no process sometimes I plan everything out and then write based on that and actually do what I planned, most times the characters take life and change everything and I keep trying to go back to the original plan and sometimes can still fit some things, usually not lol when I have time I just go with the flow and then if I'm interrupted I have to write down what I want to happen next otherwise I will not remember when I open the docs again, on the good days I write without actually thinking about it so I don't remember it well just feels like my fingers can't type fast enough lol very automatic
4. Where do you find inspiration for new ideas?
(I think I've answered this before in a better way) everywhere, things come to me at the most random times, usually when I'm daydreaming before falling asleep, sometimes by other books, tv shows or music but mostly it just feels like I spent six years of my life repressing my creative side so I could do physics and calculus so now that I'm letting it loose it's running wild lol
14. how do you write emotional scenes? Do you ever feel what the characters feel? Do you draw from personal experiences?
I don't write emotional scenes, I can't do emotional or vulnerable therefore neither can my characters which is why I mostly write from Barty/Evan's pov lol it's a different type of emotional I guess I have a dificulty in making my characters say I love you, I just cringe so badly. I don't feel what they feel at all lol and the only personal experience would be from emotions like anger
17. What do you do when writing becomes difficult? (maybe a lack of inspiration or writers block)
inspiration never lacks the problem is the lack of time, but when things aren't flowing I stop and go watch something, read or go to the gym until my mojo comes back
19. What is the most-used tag on your ao3?
Morally Ambiguous Characters and Graphic Depictions of Violence
30. Do you share rough drafts or do you wait until it’s all polished?
sometimes I just post the draft lol I cannot re-read things before posting so the first few people reading are definetly getting screwed over sorry, but then I feel the pressure of having people seeing all my mistakes and it forces me to go polish it
35. What is one essential thing to remember when writing a villain?
question what are his motives and why did he chose that path and maybe not make him one-dimensional like his whole purpose isn't just to go against the hero, make him compelling, make us believe in why he chose that path make us understand him and feel sorry for his motivations, I always like that lol
43. Do you take a sadistic joy in whumping your characters, or are you more the "If you hurt them I would kill everyone and then myself" kind of person?
Definetely the first, I'm very disattached to death, I have cried in very few fics and it's not when people die lol sometimes living is more painful so I never expect people to say they cried and when they do I'm always in shock
thx <3 I thought this was gonna be harder lol but maybe I just didn't answer as I should lol
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I get it okay, being sad about a fucking game sucking or your favorite franchise character assassinating is stupid, but it doesn't feel like that now.
You don't know how much extra work I picked up to be able to pre-order the game, because with mom being stage IV it's not good around here...
And okay, maybe because of that, maybe because of my financial, and emotional struggles, maybe because my whole life is being torn apart - by my own brain disease, my mom's cancer, my coworker's suicide. Maybe I'm more sensitive. But this fucking game and the fandom meant a lot to me, it was my last refuge from all the shit in my life.
And sue me, Spider-Man means a lot to me, especially the 1048 universe, but not anymore. And it feels like my last fucking piece of happiness got robbed.
And now, Insomniac, the fucking praised studio, for their awesome storytelling comes up with this heap of garbage. And I know, they can say oh, you haven't played it, I don't need to. Not to see the fucking glaring plot holes or the repetitive shit they're doing? -Really? Agent Venom saves Peter when he almost dies to Kraven in the first act. REALLY? Then Peter again almost dies, this time to Venom, when again they need to resurrect him.
Two times he literally dies and gets resurrected and that's somehow good storytelling? Miles is Spider-Man for less time than him, but it seems Peter can't keep himself alive. And that's your main hero? One near-death would be more than enough, now he just seems incompetent.
And yeah, I get it, the symbiote has to be evil. Mindless. And unsympathetic. I get it, it's okay. The most basic adaptation, but so fresh, right? Yeah, so unique.
But really, the main thing where Insomniac promised a story about personal conflicts is just about an alien wanting to eat the planet? How is that personal? How is that personal that he manipulates Harry via his mom's voice. And then Peter just lets Harry die, because of power? Because he needs the power to save Harry, but he won't save him? Because he doesn't care if he dies? How is that good storytelling? How is that not character-assassinating Peter fucking Parker? But okay, that's what comics are doing, guess Insomniac needed to catch up. And of course, after Harry knows that the symbiote is BAD, he takes it back because he's angry at Peter for being influenced by the symbiote. WHAT DRUGS DID YOU TAKE that this makes any kind of narrative sense to you?
And no, I get it, I wouldn't mind Cindy getting introduced at all. But that it's a fucking big, wild, random coincidence that she ends up being the step-sister of Miles, and everyone is talking about the fucking pheromones? Thanks. Really, you wrote this to the incels.
And let's not talk about Peter retiring but still being around after the end game because you can't just disable Pete, right? Even if narratively that would make sense? How is that not narratively dissonant?
After this I'm gonna write all the incest porn, so at least Hailey can go suck it. Thanks, Insomniac, I really loved what I spent my money on.
Also yeah, your Italian reviewer LEAKED THE WHOLE GAME. But you can't do anything, because it's not an illegal copy.
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Donna’s Wednesday Radio Show Prompt List #24
It’s that time again! The Wednesday Radio prompt list!
Please check the updated character list on my pinned post to see who I am writing for before submitting a prompt!
Also read the rules and do not forget to put the entire prompt into your ask!
Where there's a will, there's a way, kind of beautiful
I've gotta tell you what a state I'm in
He's more than a man And this is more than love
You were a thud in the night
And if there's love in this life, there's no obstacle
I might as well take a gun and put it to his head
When you hear the firin' shots
I don't need no beat I can sing it with piano
Such a saint but such a whore
I started lookin' for a warning sign
My soul it knows no one other than you
Monday left me broken
I don't think I'm coming home
Tuesday, I was through with hoping
When the truth is I miss you
Wednesday, my empty arms were open
I'm drawn to you, something's magnetic here
But how'd y'all look so perfect? You must have some portraits in the attic
Thursday, waiting for love, waiting for love
You came back to haunt me
For real, want you to show me how you feel
It's overrated, just get another drink
You don't want nothing at all to do with me
Thank the stars, it's Friday
This is the road to ruin
I'm burning like a fire gone wild on Saturday
When I watch the world burn All I think about is you
we both know Where I'm about to go And we know it very well
Watch me come undone
Guess I won't be coming to church on Sunday
Lying in bed I can feel the space, pillows can't replace
Betray myself, just to keep your love at any cost
I thought that it would kill me, but it didn't
We are one of a kind, irreplaceable
But you showed who you are, then one magical night
If I ever hurt you your revenge will be so sweet
Crazy that I won't give up on you
How did I get so blind and so cynical?
And it's most tempting to give in
With every careless action you let me slip away
I pray that when I'm coming down you'll be asleep
I don't wanna be a murderer
Let's be alone together
If you just bought me flowers, maybe I would've stayed
I don't know what the fuck your name is
It isn't love, it isn't hate It's just indifference
In a home that's filled with love and hope
Last couple years have been a mad trip
I'm not scared of dying, I just don't want to
I forgot that you existed
Because I'm gone again And to him I just can't be true
A kiss upon my cheek As he reluctantly Ask if I'm gonna be out late
If I stopped lying, I'd just disappoint you
Would've fought the whole town,
the scent that you left behind
But I want you, ain't nothin' wrong with, wanting you
You can leave with me Or you could have the blues
Sniff on them panties now
God knows what is real and what is fake
And I know that he knows I'm unfaithful
We fucked this house up
I don't wanna take away his life
Tell me all your original sins
So many questionable choices
And it kills him inside To know that I am happy with some other guy
Damn, I know I'm killing you with them legs
We're gonna close the curtains
But I don't wanna do this anymore
I feel it in the air As I'm doing my hair Preparing for another date
Boy, you're a sight to see, kinda somethin' like me
I got every reason to feel like I'm that bitch
We run away from real life,
Every time I walk out the door I see him die a little more inside
We're gonna stay naive tonight
I don't wanna hurt him anymore
And show me secrets you didn't know was inside
He walk like this 'cause he can back it up,
#jake hangman seresin#beau cyclone simpson#bradley rooster bradshaw#bottles mayans#bishop losa#marcus alvarez#hank loza#angel reyes#ez reyes#les packer#chibs telford#tig trager#herman kozik#nero padilla#michael riz ariza#neron creeper vargas#terry bruno#joe velasco#mike duarte#horacio carrillo#sam abrams#crockett marcel#jimmy lanik#connor rhodes#benny miller#frank castle#frankie morales
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GOOFY BIRTHDAY SHIT
guess who's birthday is coming up
MEEEE
So anyways, gonna talk about how strange they are
like, you celebrate going around in a circle around the sun, and how many times that has happened, usually ads one candle to your cake. But I find it. so strange that its so widely televised that every birthday is just another party. Wouldn't it get tiring of having birthday bashes every birthday??? I like eating cake. mostly. if it s not too sugary, but like come on man. Most of the times what one is going to do is just vibe, eat some cake, hang out with friends to celebrate you're one year closer to death
and also probably trying to ignore how most of your friends may or may not have already started doing drugs. I mean, I get only one life to live and shit but dude??? at least wait until you're on your death bed and have the most WILD FUCKING DEATH BASH OF ALL TIME
maybe thats jsut me tho. Either way, I'm going to maniacally giggle as I set up a birthday discord call and just spam people with quack quack quack and then leave eating some cake. Absolute baller, have you ever just wanted to some crazy ass shit reserved for a party?? Get free food?? Be born!! It's your greatest acheivement, and BOOM!!! when you make it one year- 52 weeks of your life and you're still at least breathing?? celebrate with a shit ton of sugar and staring up at your ceiling on your birthday and wonder how the fuck you're one year older and how did you make it this far
and be proud
Simply something as simple as a birthday should totally be celebrated! Who knows, maybe you've gone through tough shit. Maybe you're battling an addiction that could kill you. Maybe you've tried some things in the past to cut your time short. Maybe you're battling an illness, no matter the kind. Maybe there are days where you just.. don't know if you can go on. Either way, you don't have to celebrate. Don't have to eat cake or be social. It's your birthday. Be proud you made it 52 more weeks.
I know I am. This year has been absolutely BALLING. It's giving 'holy shit, am I just going to stay this way forever, will things be okay, will I ever recover, will I hold on for just a little longer'
Honestly, I've had days where I was just. ready to give up. Not make it so I can yell at the world that I don't give a SHIT and I am going to LIVE. I've had times and episodes where all thats on my mind is move, move. Make it. Breath. Don't give up. Reach out where you can. but in those times, what got me moving was focusing on moving one finger at a time. Stutter my breathing, try to hum. I don't have to yell physically at the world that whatever fucking walls you shove my way I'll break it down.
Because sometimes I'm not strong enough to move through those. Sometimes I have to climb them. Sometimes I just have to wait. To break one brick at a time. It may not be chaotic, violent, or fun, but on the other side there will always be more. More ways to cause chaos, to have fun. To live, move, breath.
Every day, hell, every week may not be your week. It may not be your month. You may be struggling to even drag yourself out of bed or even eat anything. You may not be able to sleep at night but pass out while waiting for a friend to respond to a message. You may want to draw, dance, laugh, sing, write, play, but you're unable to bring yourself to. But what matters is you made it another day. You may be bored as fuck waiting. Just sitting. Doing nothing but wait.
But before you can have patience with anything, you have to have patience with yourself. break shit down. Know that some things may not last. That some friendships are bound to fade. Some days are hell and back. That one day you may die to anything.
but you also have to take into account the joy and happiness you have in the present. You have to cherish who you have now, even if you know, even if it nags you that you two may split ways. However you also have to take into account that one day, things will be okay. Sure, they won't be perfect, but it'd be breathable. It'd be just enough. and sometimes, just enough is enough. It doesn't hurt to strive for better, but it hurts to shame what you have now. It hurts to lose sight of the happiness and life you have now. Rushing into things isn't for everyone. But companionship and support go longer ways that slaving away at life so you can live a 'perfect' life. Sometimes people forget to be content with what they have and strive for better.
So, for anyone who also has a birthday coming up, or simply just need to hear it: Happy birthday motherfucker
enjoy your life while you can, you never know when your book ends, but it's better to enjoy it than wait for impending doom.
#a wild geese speaks to you through a cloud of mist#birthday#deeper than intended#pep talk#note to everyone
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Letters from the 3 WOLs
CW: Strong Language
Whoever came up with the phrase "blessed by light" can kindly stick a crystal up their ass.
I'm not going to say I've never benefited from my so-called "gift". It makes P.I. work a hell of a lot easier having a built-in bullshit detector. But when the whole greater destiny kicked in, my shit life became shitier. I was an orphaned searat, kicked out of The Stadium, and sent back to the docks of Limsa to develop a taste for ale and men with their own ships.
Once the Echo kicked in, I had an easy means of Gil. Solving shit people's, shit problems. Infidelity, missing people, stolen property. In my kind of work, a girl can eat well in a city of pirates. But of course, once the word gets out you've been given Mother's gifts, everyone comes around and demands more and more.
I probably wasn't as cynical to start. It was easy to get caught up in having a greater purpose aside from working, drinking, and bedding randos and I was always fond of cats. Locally notorious to locally famous wasn't a bad look either. You partner up with your witch friend, take out an Earth primal, and the Admiral uses your name in a sentence and suddenly everyone's your best friend. No longer the "bitch" that ruined their marriage, or the "little girl" who led to your arrest. Victoria, Hero of Limsa, wasn't terrible to hear. Hell, I even made a few real friends.
Then the shared destiny kicked in, the Warriors of Light. Mother calling to me. Men in gaudy cloaks cackling wildly about their god. Betrayal by a pussy whipped sad boy possessed by, said guy in cloak. Felling yet another primal terrorizing Limsa. Being a blonde's personal retainer. Saving, said blonde, for the umpteenth time. Dismantling Garlean occupancy and uniting Eorzea, twice. Then being framed for the dismantling and attempted assassination of one of their leaders. And then of course watching your friends die and sacrifice themselves endlessly, some not staying down, others revived to pine and simp over your every good deed. Going to another shard. Going back in time. Going to the fucking space.
And endless list of tedium that I did not sign up for, but was pulled into less Mother invade my headspace. The list goes on and on. Trauma after Trauma, Loss after Loss. At the very least, Hydallyn had the sense to choose three of us to not give the title one face to lean on and be constantly harassed.
If saving the entirety of the source wasn't enough, I am still called upon, my rest delayed so that I may voyage on with my snappish Miiqo'te besty and one of the others that share my title. Hopefully, it's the rigid Elzen and not the fuckboy.
Hopefully this you and the twins well, but I said I'd write since you've made sure the ale was plenty for my journeys, and I'm rather fond of your two little scions....We'll have tea or something when I return from Radz-at-Han. Clearly, I’m not much of a letter writer, so I send my condolences for my colorful language.
Best Wishes,
Victoria Fisher
Hey U'khuba!
What's good friend? Are the ladies missing me yet? Things have been wild since I saved the world, you know, again. I'm sorry I haven't made time to come home to see everyone, but someone has to keep the smiles on the Scion ladies' faces, and the competition is just as weak as it as at home. I'm so popular I'm even getting attention from a G tribe Tia, but they're a bunch of nerds so it's not surprising that even the guys would want to coil tails. I guess I'm popular with everyone now that I think of it. Probably Cause I'm. Such. A. Stud.
I wish I could satisfy them all but there's not been much time. The little Elzen guy that looks up to me said the Scions are taking a break for a while so I went off to look more into my Ascian friend's suggestion of figuring out where The Twelve the Twelve went. (Wow, that's really weird to write. But really, he was a cool guy). Figured I'd hit up Miss Krile and that Tia who worships the ground I walk on. I owe him a little adventure anyway. We're good buddies and I want to make sure he's okay with us just being friends. Maybe I can set up with one of the lady WOLs, he's got it bad for them too. I'm the world's greatest wingman as you know. Guess it comes with being the world's greatest hero. No one can resist my charm.
Anyway, I'm about to grab a boat and figured I'd write home to let you know I'm alive, though I'm sure stories of my heroic battle at the end of the universe has already reached your ears! Yes! That was me again! Send the ladies my love and be sure to let the old man know I’ve one upped him yet again in the hero department.
Best,
U’rahn Nuhn
Dearest Lucia,
I have treated you poorly in not making an effort to write sooner. I hope the sari that I have sent with the courier will make up for my neglect. It has been some time since we parted in Garlemald, and as I’m sure you know, the actions of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn and my fellow Warriors of Light have halted the Final Days. I imagine this comes as a great relief for yourself and Sir Aymeric.
I am due for a long overdue visit home; in fact, I was set upon it until moments ago. It seems that my abilities are needed back in Radz-at-Han. While I was looking forward to a visit with you and Aymeric, as well as the rest, my journey as one of Hydaelyn’s chosen, as always, comes first. Duty before all else is a sentiment we share.
At the very least, I am relieved my peers seem amenable in helping our friends in this latest challenge. Miss Fisher is accompanying me to further assist Y’shtola in her efforts to travel between shards while I seek an audience with the Vrtra in hopes to follow up upon a passing suggestion made by a departed friend. As for the rake, he is off with his fellow Seeker. It feels rude to say, but I shall enjoy his absence. His constant philandering hasn’t cooled down, even upon witnessing the majesty of the end of space. It is a wonder Miss Fisher hasn’t irreparably harmed him in retaliation over his scandalous and quite exaggerated comments on our relationship with him. He has never besmirched our honor; however, we do not want his stories to get out of hand and leave room for interpretation.
Anyway, I do hope you will take time to regale me of your exploits in Garlemald. With your sari, I have also a pouch of gil to help that angry young man we encountered on our visit. I ask that you see he gets it and remains well cared for. Mayhaps guide him forward into the Temple Knights? You found yourself there, and I imagine he will gain much from your and Aymeric’s tutelage...On second thought though he might not be keen on leaving his homeland. Whatever the case may be, I again ask that you see after his well-being and send me expenses.
Yours in Halone,
Jannie Eyradoux
#victoria fisher#u'rahn tia#jannie eryadoux#3wol#final fantasy 14#ffxiv miqo'te#ffxiv elezen#ffxiv writing#ffxiv oc#final fantasy xiv#ffxiv endwalker#ffxiv 6.0 spoilers#ffxiv 6.1#ameliance leveilleur#lucia junius#aymeric de borel#warrior of light
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Metalocalypse #2: “Dethwater” | August 13, 2006 – 11:45AM | S01E02
Frontman Nathan Explosion keeps deleting Dethklok's highly-anticipated upcoming album in a fit of perfectionism. In that same fit of perfectionism he decides that the only way the album will live up to the hype is if the band records it in the deepest place on earth: the Mariana Trench. The record label insists on sending a producer to oversee their activities, which does not sit well with Dethklok. They get down there and record their album, but due to a recording mishap they need to isolate Toki in his own pod to record his track, but instead he sings a lighthearted song about making fish friends. Toki being a sweetiepie is a very good running bit.
The producer winds up loving Dethklok's album so much that he turns his back on the tribunal, who initially had him tapped as a spy. Early on the show was sorta vaguely setting up some grand plot that would become apparent as the show went on. I guess. Honestly, I think I watched every episode of this show and I started losing interest at the end of it and I don't even really recall a whole lot about it. I think I prefer this element as just being more absurd or meta. It's almost like a Saturday Morning cartoon where the main characters just inexplicably have a villain character that hates them and tries to thwart them just cuz that's what you did in a Saturday Morning Cartoon. The fact that Dethklok sorta became a real band because of this show sorta demonstrates that they were backwards engineering this concept; It's almost like if the Harlem Globetrotters became real guys because of the Saturday Morning cartoon and not vice-versa.
The current conversation in the boys DM is about how hideous the animation is for this show, and I basically agree, but I think I find myself appreciating certain aspects of it. Like, the character designs are also really ugly, right? But they also sorta seem like they're supposed to be drawn by amateurs? Like there's the one part towards the end where the producer guy is ascending way too fast in his submarine in order to escape a monster, and he gets the bends so bad that his eyeballs explode, and it keeps zooming in on his face. You can see like jagged tossed-off lines, as though whoever drew it wasn't actually very good at drawing. I don't know man, it's a thing.
EPHEMERA CORNER:
youtube
MAIL BAG:
have you ever enjoyed a real life Adult Swim? You don't seem like the public pool type based on your eccentricities in your writing.
The only time I ever enjoyed an Adult Swim was when I was a little kid. All Kids Outta the Pool and into the clubhouse; there’s arcades in there baby!!!
Is it just me or when Will Forte says "THANKS FOR CARING" at the end of the JJ Pepper Videography sketch on Awesome Show it takes the air out of the whole bit? It feels like an SNL instinct instead of a Tim and Eric one. Sorry, I just don't like it, and I'm not gonna wait for you to get to Awesome Show to ask because I can die any day and you are going simply too slow. It would have been a Legen-DARY sketch if it wasn't for that final line.
I think it’s such a wild and weird way to end a commercial TV that I’m glad it exists.... but! You may be right. It’s just too weird. Is JJ Pepper for real?
Did you skip covering the Space Ghost Coast to Coast Volume 3 DVD set? Is it because of the Pavement menus? Did Stephen Malkmus come to one of your Simpsons Nights and insouciantly tell you he prefers watching sports?
I suspected that I DID miss it, but thought maybe I’d get away with it. But since I’m covering that season for Space Ghost Week maybe I’ll just do an entry for it to kick things off. Or... NOT!
Hm. I'm a moron for just telling you straight up how it is. Okay. Goodbye.
Bye bye! See you hell LOSER!
Here's 10 Ways To Make Your Blog's Mailbag Funner and Funniers. Number 10: Make a Call to Action with every post. This is a surefire way to get people to talk back. Number Two: Lay some ground rules. While no one likes a hall monitor, laying a few ground rules will make people know what to expect when sending you mail. Number Three: Throw in some red meat. Drink Dr. Pepper? Menton it in a blog post. It may not be relevant but a little autobiographical info can inspire some replies. Number Four:
I don’t drink Dr. Pepper. Thanks for caring.
I don't think that bug wars movie that guy was talking about was real. You have some really stupid people reading this blog. Maybe make people solve a brain teaser before they can submit something to you.
Thank god it’s not real. I think the mail bag is at it’s best when it’s an equal mix of smart cookies and sick puppies and I gotta say, COOKIES: STEP IT UP!
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she made all of her kids nude porn stars then too, at birth "yea film it"-her mom anne marie/lady gaga/whoever jens mom is
then kills dogss
then goes back to her then back to her and its inbreeding again, the video shit
and they dont stop going at you too
and they are everywhere
then horse back riding, masks, and a logo
and all again
maybe a morning sunset on th ebeach
or a filipino beach guy to give you a infant while you live up in the trees
and maybe drugs if you want
dazed and confused
black hair
white guitar girl
tan guy
then she goes wild for a boy doing a wheelie on a motor bike
then sees footprints in the sand
she is mary anne, aunt rose's daugter who brest fed beth
so kids name was brett
to come back to it
rips shirt off
then shes deezy
i need a drink
give me a nose ring
then beard her
aunt rose i gotta live with her
then ex post about it
weird calm down meme feeling. mom posted the picture of a conversation.
there were only so many face books
i will write down the names later
john wayne gacy is kevin
filipino
then it just goes on again to their big gay life
school dances
my cell phone dick photo in the mirror
she wanted a dress like mine
shoot her in the fucking head
mollys relative, we killed her kind of right, thoughts of me were there
right
make it sluttier
https://www.facebook.com/friends/suggestions/?profile_id=100000085233472 and your neice next shannon
halloween 4? drugs and that life they all have to.. go and live it!
to sit her big asss on you
phase of life
omg friends drugs she told me it i dont care
hahahha
grandmother willow right
no
the dumpster guy in the movie
noroi
dragging the infants
no you need one too
says it to them
anne marie looking ones just left it on the ground
and shannon would be fucking it then walk up to him fucking it aand try and get them all fucking while doing that
and annemarie made shannon her drug ffriend
there is alix the next generation after
constantly has to fuck him
a don
shannon is a mom first
and anne marie just goes to sleep
aunt rose and beth are anne maries
chris is a alix needs to fuck
leaves fast
or what im young again to find her with a dog
and leave it to
and this is alix too, wayneradio tv what i cant put on a mask and fool them all, and leave, and make them again, in your area, with them, and their party, what they want, in the woods, and here, i might get her, and i get her, and i get her
and leave
we had to do the same thing the other one did
related
we are alike
whoa not related
hate it
we know you and hate you too
half of it is tit pics
the rest is i dunno
for sex with wwho
all of them are tht
and the i dunno you ones
i dunno go fuck
why arent you
now im turned on by you
aand hey me and mom do it easy
dope me do me mom then i fuck it up and die in 8 years now i live in the woods at raves and fuck and do whatever
im gay
mom lives ina house in a river
now plan it out
houses where
they all get to live
throw it in
abortion
then it gets a name
his dad and him
garbage guy
and john wayne gacy
twilight
mask
and werewolf
and abortion
skeleton with hat
he would put one on it
they brought a pile over again
and tried to fuck me with it
he was sting too, john wayne gacyy
and youre in the back right
right?
orange
i know them all now
and dialet
i will shit in her food today
and the kids he mates with, i wont be afraid to get this fucking spot doing it with him, their wives were the same he said
they wanted to go on it
when
they saw
who
fuckign noises
owl calls for one
old wild
that is aunt rose and fred
again? greg?
his son in front of him would
they would jump and fuck and fuck one of them there
grouped outside
the jump landing was it
face lift to her huh
then carriage accident
full fake head
does this guy try and live in mym house
he is godzilla
guess who
uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
at anyone
at him
my dad?
mated 8 times
who who
said it
oh my god
i dont care
who
it is
sexy shit
they thought giants would walk them around
epkot
epcot
their world logo
for take over
their train shows it
they keep cumming in a numbilical cord then after liquid laundry detergent it turns it black and they inject it
to turn black
or purple or what blue
violet was him
mission
family
he knew everyones family the scare crow
of central t owest spain
and is gay
golfer
lion
and his wife
dur dur dur im the gay chienese animator
made it all
shes getting a bath
i dont want that from ya
hot
or that
cold
warm
and please squeeze it, like it again
Thu 6:14 PM
charles lee ray is the garbage guy
marrried agnes and chris
and aunt jemima wwas his inbred with the gone with the wind black btich, married that black woman too
kept the money for herself
she next on ekept checks
then after
free bank ask for it in the back
meghan
it was her in the movie too
mexico
and is penny's mom
lady gaga
apacolypto film me from up
was 8 then next yearr peggy sue 16 right
barbra ann
her mom
and next one
her mom
cinndy
then her mom
chris
then her mom
agnes
then her mom
gone with the wind black bitch
they edited her white
right
no is amanda
or meghan
which one
shoot both
take off her voice piece she is the one with the headset under her skin
to keep licking
wwhat you wwant on you
was suppossed to get shot
and shut up
too
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Review: Killer
Synopsis:
In picture-perfect Rosewood, Pennsylvania, ash-blond highlights gleam in the winter sun and frozen lakes sparkle like Swarovski crystals. But pictures often lie— and so do Rosewood's four prettiest girls.
Hanna, Aria, Spencer, and Emily have been lying ever since they became friends with beautiful Alison DiLaurentis. Ali made them do terrible things—things they had to keep secret for years. And even though Ali was killed at the end of seventh grade, their bad-girl ways didn't die with her.
Hanna's on a mission to corrupt Rosewood's youth, starting with a very attractive sophomore. Aria's snooping into her boyfriend's past. Spencer's stealing— from her family. And pure little Emily's abstaining from abstinence.
The girls should be careful, though. They thought they were safe when Ali's killer was arrested and A's true identity was finally revealed. But now there's a new A in town turning up the heat. And this time Rosewood is going to burn
Plot:
With a missing body, the police and Rosewood are against the girls, as they become real pretty little liars in the media's eyes. Yet, all of their work to find Ali's killer, finding out who A is, figuring out where Ian's body went can wait because there are more important things to think about. Like how we are two relationships up and two relationships down. Smitten with Isaac, Emily is in complete love with her boyfriend, who accepts her lesbian past and loves her back. The only problem is that Isaac's mother hates her; for either her past or being with her son, it is hard to get into Mom's good books when banging her son in her house. Spencer's relationship is also on the up as her all-time rival becomes the closest thing to her yet. Spencer is on the hunt for one more person to make her life perfect: her mother, her actual birth mother, because it is definitely not Mrs. Hastings. Hanna's relationship with Lucas is out, but her rivalry with Kate is entirely in, and that involves choosing any boy Kate wanted first. Hanna is off to seduce a boy that would hump a tree: Mike Montgomery. Then there is Aria, who decides to pursue her childhood crush and needs to find the approval of older men, with Jason DiLaurentis, Alison's not-so-stable older brother. With all the girls invited to Radley Hotel opening, the new place to be in Rosewood, the old mental hospital from trouble teens turned boutique hotel, the girls become one step closer as they discover some big DiLaurentis family secrets and an addition to the group, or, an old addition coming back.
Thoughts:
And Sara Shepard keeps going! Onto book six in the series, the main event is the Randle Hotel open party, with the girl in trouble for this event being Spencer. Shepard takes us on another wild tale of our favorite liars through her fast pace, easy-to-follow writing. They spin themselves deeper into a web of lies and betrayals. Similar to ending the last book with Ian's body, Shepherds drops another bomb at the end of this one that makes you desperately want the next one and confirms with yourself that you are addicted to this guilty pleasure. Spencer's families are still the most hated character, and I do not think they will ever go down and are probably the worst fictional parents I have ever read across my entire library. They are just awful, like is-it-illegal-to-be-this-mean horrible to your child? I know there are worse parents; after all, Spencer has a ton of money, goes to private school, has the opportunity to afford the top university anywhere in the world. Still, Spencer will also have a lot of mental trauma from her parents and now her birth mom. The latter, unfortunately, is not as lovely as Spencer wanted her to be. This puts Spencer on the list of worst characters for this installment of the series, not because she did horrible things but because she was just really dumb for the majority of the book. Good characters? I guess Emily, as all she did was sleep with her boyfriend, which made his mom hate her, which is not the worst crime in the world. Hanna and Kate are still going at it, which is always a hilarious read because it's hard to see if Kate is nice-nice or a fake-nice and secretly wants to take down Hanna as Hanna thinks she is. The verdict is out, and I am excited to see what Shepard does with her Kate character. Then there is Aria, off trying to win Jason's affection by having bizarre interactions with him. Honestly, there were so many red flags after her first date I do not even know how that girl could still see. Overall, Shepard always adds that one thing in the end that makes you want to keep reading. You have to applaud her on how she makes you invested in this series, as I am definitely hooked and cannot wait to see what happens next.
A Suspects:
The concept of the novel is our four girls trying to find out who A is, thus I thought it would be fun to keep a suspect list to see how many people Shepard writes for the girls to at one point suspect and by whom. So here is the list for book #5:
Ian by Aria
Jenna by Aria
Body Count
As Shepard keeps killing people off, I think it would be a good idea to keep track of who died, but without spoiling the ending of the current book, as her habit is killing them off with two chapters to go. So here is the list of the dead for the previous book #5:
Ian, Mona, Toby and Ali
Read more reviews: Goodreads
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the misadventures list; 1 (m)
➜ the night shift can be very wild at times. you’ve witnessed so many strange, concerning and absurd situations happen inside the tiny convenience store that you could make a long list with everything that got you stunned - and the situation that takes the prize of being the weirdest of your list is the night a desperate millionaire, for the sake of saving his fortune, asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend.
pairing: playboy!jimin x (f) reader
genre: smut, comedy (?), fluff • fake dating au
warnings: explicit sexual content in future chapters. coarse language. me trying to be funny i guess
rating: 18+
word count: 6k
A/N: so excited to finally share this one with you guys!! i really needed to write something lighthearted after so much angst (even tho yall know me so there's definitely gonna be a lil bit of angst in the future). feedback is always much appreciated!
let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!
➜ Chapters: check out masterlist in bio!
« playlist »
Working in a 24h convenience store is quite the experience.
Despair leads humans to take drastic decisions. Living alone as a college student in a big city is in itself a situation of despair - especially if you have no family to help you out with the bills and not enough professional experience to get a decent job. So, when you saw the rent coming just around the corner and you had a spectacular amount of $15 in your bank account, you accepted the first job offer that appeared in front of you.
Yes. You accepted the night shift.
Does it mean that you barely sleep these days and you feel that your brain is going to actually melt? Yes. But at least the salary is a little higher than your last job and the store is two blocks away from your apartment.
Also, sometimes you end up witnessing interesting things.
The store is pretty empty most of the time - which means that you just sit behind the cashier counter for hours straight trying not to die of boredom. You can study a lot, which is good, but sometimes, when you already did everything you had to do - from organizing items on shelves back and forth to wiping the floor twice or feeding the dog that always passes by around 2AM -, you have no choice but sit there and question your life choices.
When customers do come, though, it's usually the same type of people. You have already memorized the pattern of customers: sad college students that come to buy dinner (usually noodles. Delicious, cheap and unhealthy. What else could a broke young adult want?), or drunk college students that come after leaving clubs to buy some snacks, or drunk and sad college students that don't have that many friends to go out with, so they buy beer, eat noodles and cry alone in their respective apartments/dorms. You somehow relate to all of them.
From time to time, some people out of the pattern show up, though. There was that homeless man that once came in to simply buy Oreo but you ended up discussing the consequences of the 2008 financial crisis for about forty minutes (a really smart man, that one). There was also that time when a woman walked in wearing nothing but lingerie and bunny ears; she bought some condensed milk, called you pretty and left (you never blushed so hard in your life). Or that time you had to chase a 12 year old down the street holding a baseball bat because he tried to steal a vodka bottle (fortunately, you didn't need to actually beat him up. The little devil threw the bottle and ran away while people stared at you like you were crazy). Oh, let's not forget that time a group of people with questionable fashion sense tried to lure you into becoming a part of their cult (something about aliens and illuminati. That time you got actually scared).
After three months of working here, you got convinced that this small convenience store is actually an anomaly in space-time. A place where dimensions merge. Universal rules don't apply here. One day a talking polar bear might just walk in to buy Coca-Cola and you'll be like oh, that's neat.
And tonight is one of those nights when the matrix seems to fail and a weird ass dude shows up.
It's true that you heard the front door open a few minutes ago; you simply lifted your head from behind the counter, trying to peek at them, but the person disappeared behind the shelves quickly. Because you were too focused on highlighting your textbook, you didn't really pay mind to whoever it was. After around ten minutes, you felt your body itching and your vision blurring after so much reading (tax law is one of your least favorite subjects) and decided to reorganize the items on the snacks section once again.
That's kind of how it went for around four minutes.
Then you notice that there is an actual person sitting on the floor behind the refrigerators.
You gasp.
The person turns his head to look at you.
The first thing you notice is the unusual silver hair. The second thing is the fact that he's holding two phones in his hands. The third thing is the Rolex on his right wrist.
The fourth thing is the smile he opens as he sees you - an actual smile, so big that his eyes almost completely close.
"Hi!" he says in a happy voice. As if it's completely normal of him to be sitting on the floor of a store, knees close to his chest, for almost twenty minutes.
You immediately step back, ready to run the fuck out if you need to, your heart still beating rapidly from the scare.
"May I help you, sir?" you ask, unable to not scowl at him.
He's still smiling. He shakes his head. His hair and earrings sway as he does. "No, thank you! I'm fine. Just… sitting here." he laughs. "Oh, I know what you're thinking. I'm definitely not a weirdo. I'm just…" one of the phones in his hand starts ringing. He clicks his tongue and frowns. "Wait a second."
He slams it on the floor.
Like. Literally fucking slams it.
And steps on it a couple of times with the back of his foot until you hear the noise of glass shattering. When the screen doesn't turn on anymore, he sighs in relief.
"Anyways, as I was saying… I'm not a weirdo." he smiles again. You step back. "It's just that I had a fight with my brother and all… you know how siblings are, right?"
You don't reply. He doesn't seem to notice how you look at him as if he's indeed the weirdest dude in the world - or he's simply too good at ignoring it.
"Oh, so you're an only child, I guess? Well, lucky you." He laughs again. It also seems that he's talking to the voices in his head. "I'm actually hiding here for a while. So don't mind me! Really, I'm just gonna sit here for thirty more minutes until it's safe to go outside again."
And he smiles prettily once more.
You just stand there, staring at him like he's got a second head, for long seconds. His smile doesn't falter. His cheeks might be hurting at this point.
"Your brother isn't a gang leader or something, right?" is the first thing you ask. His eyes widen and he quickly waves his hands dismissively.
"No! Gosh, of course not," he laughs again. "He's just… kinda tall."
You stare at him for a few more moments.
Well, it's not as if he's committing a crime anyway. It also looks like he's being honest. So you just shrug.
(After seeing so many strange people during the night shift, very little things surprise you anymore).
Before you can say anything, though, you see him widening his eyes as he spots something behind you.
"Shit!" he exclaims before, once again, disappearing behind the refrigerator - he comes so close to the wall and hugs his legs so tightly against his chest that he might as well become a ball.
Confused, you look back to the glass front door - just in time to see a man walk in.
It honestly looks like one of those stupid drama scenes.
He's tall. Really tall. Wears a black long coat that looks very expensive, has pitch black hair styled to the side and a suit that also looks very expensive.
You can almost imagine the slow-mo camera, the pink filter and the romantic drama OST playing in your head.
To say that you're starstruck is an understatement.
The only thing that kind of kills the moment is his expression of pure fury.
The man looks around, tip-toeing to have a better view of the entire store (not that he needed to tip toe to have a better view). He walks to the cleaning products aisle with heavy steps, seemingly in search of someone.
Then, it hits you.
He's just… kinda tall.
If he turns the corner, he'll definitely see the weirdo sitting on the floor behind the fridge.
Maybe it's compassion. Maybe it's the fact that the man is indeed very tall and looks like he could break the other guy in two. Maybe it is God whispering in your ears, saying, my child, if you don't intervene, that poor weirdo will probably show up on the news as a murder victim.
You don't know what it is, but you end up quickly following him to the other corridor.
"Excuse me, may I help you?" you say, forcing a smile.
He stops and turns around - just before turning the corner and coming face-to-face with his prey.
"Oh." Gosh. He's even better from up close. "No, thank you. I'm just…" He tilts his head and caresses the back of his neck, stepping closer to you. "Actually, have you seen a stupid-looking guy with bleached hair walking around here?"
You have to swallow a laugh.
"No." You say, sounding apologetic. "I guess I would have remembered someone like that."
The man sighs, seeming slightly disappointed.
"Alright. Thank you anyway. Good night."
He walks away slowly.
The store goes back to silence for many seconds, the only audible sound being the buzz of the refrigerators.
Then, the bleach-haired weirdo shows up from behind the aisle. You've honestly never seen someone look so relieved in your life.
"Thank you so, so much!" he says excitedly, putting his hand over his chest. "Oh my God, I thought he was going to kill me. You saved my life. My heroine!"
Now that he's standing close to you under proper light, you can't help but disagree with his brother.
This man right here is anything but stupid-looking.
Albeit shorter than the other, you notice that he has… well… nice body proportions. His skin is so ridiculously clear that it reminds you of fine chinese porcelain (it makes you feel self aware of your own oily skin and you quietly regret not exfoliating your face those last few weeks). When he smiles, his eyes almost completely close, which makes him look somehow cute. However, the thing that most draws your attention is his lips. They're just so… plump. And healthy. You can notice the subtle gloss of lip balm.
His clothes are quite simple - white buttoned shirt with the sleeves rolled up and black pants -, but you see the little Prada written on his belt and yet again you see the huge golden Rolex on his wrist - like his brother, everything about him screams I am rich.
On top of that, he smells good.
You're conflicted.
You don't know if you're feeling attracted to him or if you're just plain jealous.
Quirking your eyebrow up, you cross your arms. "Well, I also felt that he was going to kill you. You must've done something really bad."
"Oh, no. My brother hates me for simply existing in the same space as him." He says it so light-heartedly that you don't know if he's serious or not. He lifts the shattered phone in his hand. "Also, I stole his phone, so… I think his reaction was fair this time."
Oh.
"I would have wanted to kill you, too." you blurt out in pure honesty.
He laughs again, covering his mouth with his fist and slightly throwing his head back. He's the type that laughs with his entire body. Does this man know how to fake laughter very well or does he genuinely think everything is funny?
"Don't bother! This is one of his phones. I just gained some time before he can call my parents." You can't help but frown. Did he seriously destroy his brother's phone just so he couldn't call his parents? "Anyway, I'm sure he left. I think I should, too."
"Yeah. Hm… Good night. And good luck with your psycho brother." You say awkwardly, starting to feel a little weirded out by him - because when he looks at people, he actually looks at them. Like. For real.
"Thank you. Good night!"
He opens the front door and only leaves after peeking his head outside to check if his brother isn’t sneakily waiting for him, waving at you cutely.
You stand there for some moments, putting your hands on your waist.
Well.
This is one more situation that will make you say "you won't guess what happened to me this time" to your friends; now, two handsome rich guys were playing mortal hide and seek during your shift. And you think it'll be just it - another strange story to your list about people you're never seeing again.
This time, though, you're wrong.
It's around the same time at night when, once again, your eye catches silver hair walking into the store.
You feel forced to put your textbook down this time.
He smiles and waves excitedly. Today, he wears a red turtleneck under a long black coat, black pants and leather black shoes that look very expensive. He takes off his sunglasses as he walks in (sunglasses at 1AM? Really?). "Hello!"
You stare at him, straight-faced, for long moments.
"May I help you?" You can't hide your suspiciousness.
"I just decided to drop by and say hello to my heroine!"
Oh no. He really is a weirdo.
"Okay." You're speaking and moving slowly as if you're facing a dangerous and angry dog. "Hello."
He nods, still smiling.
You watch as the silver-haired man puts his hands on the pockets of his coat, trying to fake a nonchalant act, and slowly walks around the store, humming quietly. He looks at every shelf and refrigerator but it's obvious that he's not searching for anything in particular.
It goes on for a few minutes.
It's painful to watch.
Finally, he comes to the cashier holding a can of Pringles and a Coke, making you get up from your chair. He pays for the items with a black card that feels heavy when you take it on your fingers.
"Do you want a plastic bag?" You ask, as usual.
He takes around two seconds to reply.
"No. I'm… I'm eating it here."
You stare at each other in silence.
"Are you hiding from your brother again?"
"Yes." His shoulders drop as he says this, finally letting go of his façade. "Can I just stay for some time? I know he won't search for me here again. I won't bother you, I promise!"
He sounds whiny. Like a little kid begging for more cookies.
This grown ass man is literally pouting at you.
You exhale heavily. "Alright. No problem, I guess." You still eye him suspiciously as he sighs and smiles, relieved. He does have a pretty smile. "Are you sure your brother isn't a gang leader?"
"No. He's just unbearable." He taps his fingers on the counter. "Do you… have a stool or something?"
You blink. "A stool?"
He tilts his head awkwardly. "Yes. I don't wanna sit on the floor again."
Oh. Sure.
There is actually a tiny stool hidden under the counter. You give it to him and he puts it on the other side of the cashier counter, happily sitting on it and opening the Pringles can.
You sit back, still moving slowly. This situation is awkward.
“Do you want some?” He offers you, his cheeks full and his eyes round. You shake your head.
“No, thank you.”
He just keeps eating in silence for a few moments, humming happily as he chews.
Your eyes slowly fall back over the textbook.
“Oh! I didn’t even tell you my name! That’s so rude,” he says out of sudden with - once again - a type of excitement similar to a child’s. You don’t know if it’s cute or creepy at this point. “I’m Jimin. What’s your name?”
“Y/N.” He repeats your name under his breath, nodding.
Silence.
You lay your eyes on the textbook once more. Everything you hear is the quiet sound of him chewing his crunchy chips.
“What are you reading?”
When you lift your head again, he’s kinda closer than he was a second ago. His eyes are gleaming with curiosity, stretching his neck to try to see a glimpse of it.
Awkwardly, you close it to show him the cover. “Hm… I’m just studying.”
He scowls. “Tax law? God, that's awful. What’s your major, by the way?”
“Economics.”
He chuckles.
You cross your arms slowly, frowning. “What’s funny about it?”
“Nothing.” He licks his fingertips. “It’s just that… I think of old bald men with huge goggles when I hear the word accountant. I don’t imagine someone like you.”
“Is this a compliment?” You quirk one eyebrow up.
“Half and half. This kinda makes you boring.”
You stare at him in silence.
Is this dude you just met calling you boring?
“Well, I’m sorry if my attempt at having a better life sounds boring to you.”
“Don’t get me wrong!” He’s quick to say, waving his hands. “It’s just that… all the math… and sitting behind a desk your whole life, reading papers, analyzing numbers… it sounds terrible.” He scowls as if he has a lemon inside of his mouth.
“It doesn’t sound terrible to me.” You defend yourself. “I like when things are organized and working the way they should.”
He licks his lips. That was a little bit distracting.
“I have a different mindset.” He explains. “I’m a free spirit, you know? I don’t like feeling tied like that. The idea of being just a gear inside of a big company that gives two shits about you is suffocating.”
“Really? And what’s your profession?” Honestly, you don’t even think he went to college.
“International Relations.”
You snort. “And doesn’t it mean that you have to be a gear inside of a big company to work with something like that?”
“I know.” He nods vehemently, lifting his eyebrows. “And I hate it.”
“Why did you major it, then?”
“It wasn’t really my choice.” He taps his fingers over the counter. “My family wants me to be in their business, you know.”
You watch him in silence.
As curious as you are to know why the hell does this man keep hiding from his brother, you kind of feel that he’s even more eager to tell you what’s going on.
“That’s why you’re hiding?” You bet. Jimin clicks his tongue.
“Kinda. If they find me, they’ll definitely force me into a position.” He sighs tiredly. “They don’t understand that I’m not like my older brother! He wants to be CEO or whatever. Why don't they just let him carry the family business if he wants it so bad? I was never interested in the first place!” He pouts a lot as he talks. It's stupid - everything about this guy feels a little bit over the top; definitely not the type you'd normally be into -, but you have to control yourself not to stare at his lips all the time.
You shake your head incredulously and rest your back on the chair.
“Why do I feel that you’re judging me?” Jimin asks, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.
“Because I am.” You say. “I would love to be forced into an important position in a big company. What’s your family’s business, by the way?”
“The Aurum Steel Company. I don’t know if you’ve heard of it.” He says nonchalantly.
You gasp.
“Aurum Steel Company?! Are you kidding me?” You stare at him, jaw dropped. Sure, it was obvious since the beginning that Jimin was rich… but being the heir of one of the biggest steel companies in the world?! “You know what? I wouldn’t just love to be forced into a position. I would actually kill to be in any position.”
“It’s a freaking steel company! Do you know how boring it is?!” Jimin says as if you’re the crazy one.
“Oh my God. Rich people problems have never been so real.” You shake your head, staring at him wide-eyed. “That’s offensive, even”
“You’re saying this because you don’t know how those people live.” Jimin gesticulates a lot as he speaks. “Being honest, they don’t even have lives at all. They just work, work, work and work. I would honestly rather die.”
"So you don't like to work, basically."
"I never said that." he crosses his arms. "I don't wanna work with that."
"Then, what do you want to work with? Maybe you could convince your parents to leave you alone if you give them enough of an excuse."
He leans his elbow on the counter and rests his face on his palm, thoughtful. "I don't think they'll accept any excuse at all. You see, they kinda let me do whatever I wanted to do for the past few years. My dad was like, 'it's okay if you want to enjoy life for now, but some time you'll have to assume your responsibilities.'" He deepens his voice, mimicking his father's voice, which makes you want to laugh. "I've been living overseas and all. But… now that I turned 25, they decided to corner me from all sides. They said that if I didn't come back, they would block all of my bank accounts."
"And did they?"
"Yes." he nods. "But I came back, talked to the bank manager and they unblocked it."
"So that's why your parents and brother are mad at you?" you quirk your eyebrow up.
"Yes. They've been hunting me around the city. But I don't want to go see them." Jimin whimpers, dramatically pretending to cry. "Hyungsik found out in which hotel I was, so I had to escape. And that's why I'm here."
You stare at him in silence while he pouts at you.
"Wow. What a tragic life of yours." Jimin nods, closing his eyes. It’s hard to guess if he didn’t get the dripping sarcasm in your tone or if he simply ignored it.
"I know. I don't even have a place to sleep!"
You stare at the Coke he bought resting near his elbow. "Well, I think if you want to escape, you'll have to figure out a place to sleep and leave real soon."
He frowns. "Why? Are you kicking me out?"
"No. It's just that you used a credit card to buy those things. If they're really hunting you down, they must probably already know that you bought something here."
Jimin freezes.
His eyes widen.
"Shit!" he swears under his breath and gets up in a jump. "I'm so fucking stupid!"
"Do you want me to agree or…?"
"Don't." He takes the Pringles can and - believe it or not - manages to smile once again. "Thank you for letting me stay again, Y/N!"
He waves goodbye and runs out of the store.
Again, the only noise to fill your ears is the buzz of the refrigerators. You sigh and open the Coke he left behind, drinking a little bit.
Whiny millionaire man complains about having responsibilities and runs away.
One more goes to your list.
It’s not like you totally weren’t expecting it at this point.
Just like he simply entered the store and acted as if his presence was 100% normal - and even acted as if he had some sort of intimacy with you, spilling his whole life in the span of ten minutes -, he took a place in the back of your thoughts and stayed there throughout the day. The strange, dramatic, spoiled yet charming man.
After spending some years of your life in a private school as a scholarship holder, you unceremoniously learned to hate rich people. Most of your colleagues were spoiled, selfish and arrogant, with only a few exceptions. Sure, being rich doesn’t mean someone is inherently bad. But, as you noticed after years of watching teens cry because their parents won’t take them to Paris this vacation, growing up with so much money makes someone be so self-centered and so unaware of real life problems that it makes them unbearable. As Rousseau said: humans are born just fine, society (capitalism) fucks them up.
Yes, seeing Jimin whine about not wanting to work at his family’s billionaire company sure offended you somehow. Yet… there was something different about him. Some type of naivety and honesty that refrained you from hating his guts.
The fact that he’s stupidly handsome and has the prettiest lips you’ve ever seen in your life helps? Of course.
So… Yeah. You kind of were expecting him to show up again.
It made you feel stupid. What, do you think you’re in a cliche drama now?, you scolded yourself as you sat behind the counter, ready to start the long shift. Hot millionaire falls for poor hardworking girl?
You probably shouldn’t get your hopes high.
So, as you go about your nightly routine - wipe the floor, feed the dog, restock the refrigerators, throw expired food away, serve two customers in the span of three hours -, you sometimes peek at the front door, expecting to see silver hair walking in.
At around 2AM, he indeed shows up.
This time, you fully drop your textbook, a deep frown covering your features.
Jimin looks… different.
First of all - his hair is a mess. Not perfectly styled at all. He wears a pink oversized hoodie, blue patterned pajama pants that do not match in any way, socks and flip flops. No earrings, no rings, no watch on his wrist.
On top of that, it looks like he either discovered all of the world’s dirtiest secrets or was chased by Satan himself.
He’s pale. His eyes are widened by default.
You watch, frozen, as Jimin opens the first refrigerator he sees, takes a water bottle, walks on a bee line to the cashier, slams some money over the counter and sits on the stool.
He literally gulps the whole water bottle in, like, five seconds - then stares blankly at nothing.
You don’t move for a few moments.
“Are you okay?” you finally ask hesitantly. “It looks like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“My parents want me to get married.” He blurts out.
You almost choke.
“What?!”
“They found a candidate.” He holds the empty pet bottle so tightly that it smashes. “My brother told me that they want to arrange everything as fast as they can.”
You simply stare at him, jaw-dropped, for more time than you can process.
“This can’t be serious.” You say, tilting your head slowly. “Maybe your brother was messing with you.”
“Hyungsik is not the type that messes around with people.” Jimin says, shaking his head.
“They can’t force you into marrying someone. What, are we in the XIX century?” You cross your arms. It sounds so fucking surreal.
“Their minds are stuck in the XIX century. And this type of thing is much more common than you think.” Jimin exhales and rests his head on his hands. “I’m so fucked up!”
“Well, you… you can not agree with them.” You weakly try to elaborate. “You can say no.”
For the first time, Jimin lifts his head and looks at you as if you just said the stupidest thing in the world.
“Yeah, I could say no and have my name erased from the testament. Actually, they’ll block all of my accounts for real the moment I say no.”
“But you have some savings of your own, right? I mean, your own money, right?”
Jimin goes silent.
It hits you… Jimin is so rich that he never even considered not having money. Why would someone with “endless” money save money?
“Wow. You really are fucked up.”
“I have a little money saved!” He tries to defend himself. “But I think what I have is enough to pay my apartment’s rent...”
“You could, I don’t know… be like 99% of the world’s population and find a job to sustain yourself.” You shrug.
He, once again, stares at you as if you just said something very stupid.
“Aw, come one. You’re making things harder.” You whine.
“They’re making things harder!” He grabs his own hair as if he wants to rip it out. “I either chain myself to a company I hate or to some random woman for the rest of my life!”
You, once again, fall silent as Jimin whimpers as if in physical pain. You can see his side of things - it’s easy to tell someone to live independently and find a job, but honestly, if you’re a stupidly rich person going through the risk of losing all of your fortune, would it really be an easy decision?
Hesitantly, you lean closer to him. Why are you even caring to give advice to a man you barely know anyway?
“Have you ever tried talking things out with them, Jimin?” You ask in a quieter voice. “Have you ever been honest to them?”
He crosses his arms over the counter and rests his chin on them. Although his hair looks like a bird nest, he still somehow manages to look cute. “They would never listen to me or accept me. They’re so… ugh.” He rolls his eyes. “They’ll never understand that I don’t want to work in an office for the rest of my life. They won’t understand that I would never marry someone because of business. I know many people that are in fake marriages like that and all of them have affairs. I’m sure my parents would say, it’s not even real! Why are you hesitating so much?, but, look, call me old-fashioned, but I kinda wanna marry someone someday because I like them, you know?” Once again, he ruffles his own hair. “And what if I want to marry a guy? My parents would try to fucking exorcise me! That’s how backwards they are!”
You gulp, starting to feel honestly sorry for him.
“Well… I don’t know what to say.” you shrug. He sighs, pouting, and looks at you.
“You don’t have to say anything, really. Just the fact that you’re listening to me already helps.”
You frown a little bit. “Why did you come here again, anyway?”
“Because any of my ‘friends’ would say I’m being dramatic and that a fake marriage isn’t a big deal.” He’s pouting so much that his voice comes out a bit muffled. “I had a feeling that someone normal like you wouldn’t think like that.”
You lift your eyebrows. “Someone normal. I don’t know if I should feel offended.”
“I just don’t know what to do!” He completely ignores your last sentence, ruffling his hair violently and tapping his feet on the floor like a kid throwing a tantrum. “If there was anything I could do to at least delay their plans!”
“You’re saying as if they’ll make a surprise wedding tomorrow.”
“That’s kinda it! Hyungsik said that they want to introduce me to this random girl at their wedding anniversary next week!”
“Wow.” You rest on the chair back once again, silently thanking the Heavens for not being in his shoes. “With all due respect, your parents really suck.”
“I know!” He growls painfully and rests his cheek on the counter. You think of a sad puppy as you watch him. “If I could at least convince them a little bit… make them believe that I’m a responsible adult…” at least he recognizes he isn’t. “If I did something that would make them give up introducing me to this girl, at least for now…”
Jimin mumbles his own pain quietly for a few seconds.
Then, you see the exact moment an idea crosses his mind.
He freezes.
His eyes widen.
Then, he looks at you.
Really looks at you.
Slowly, Jimin straightens his back.
“If I showed up to their wedding anniversary with someone… someone that looks like a decent, nice person, someone that put me on the right path… if I seemed to be so in love with this decent and nice person that they would feel embarrassed to introduce me to the girl…”
You feel the corners of your lips going down as you nod accordingly. “Do you think it would make them give up?”
“Yes. At least for some time.” He says quietly and slowly.
“It still sounds pretty fucked up, but if it’s the best solution you would have for now…” You shrug, nodding.
“Mh-hmm.” Jimin nods.
Silence.
He’s still staring at you.
You frown. “What?”
Jimin keeps silent.
You finally notice it.
The tiniest ghost of a smile in his lips. His eyes gleaming with mischief.
It hits you.
“No.” You shake your head vehemently. “No fucking way.”
“Aw, come on, Y/N!” He brings the stool closer to you, so much that now he sits right in front of you. “Do you have a boyfriend? A girlfriend?”
"No."
"Then why not?"
“Because- no!” You’re borderline hyperventilating. “It’s just absurd!”
“But you agreed that it’s a good idea!”
“Well, not with me included!” You cross your arms, as if protecting yourself from this crazy man. “Why me anyway?! I just don’t fit this role!”
“Why not?” He asks again, tilting his head. “You’re perfect for the role!”
“Well, first of all, I’m fucking broke. Do you think your parents would approve of you dating someone that owns anything but unpaid bills and a goldfish?!”
“Y/N, listen.” He puts his opened palms over the counter. His eyes are gleaming way too much. He’s excited. “My father has a heart of stone, but my mother… well, she also has a heart of stone, but let’s say that, hm, it’s eroded? Like, if you press really hard, she kinda gives in.” Okay. His metaphor was a little bit impressive. “She wouldn’t like to see me dating a poor girl, but if said poor girl is actually a dream girl that knocks some sense into her son’s reckless head, she would soften! My mom likes rom-coms, I know what I’m saying!”
“Dream girl?” You snort. “I’m anything but a dream girl.”
“I’m 100% sure that you’re on summer break and yet there you are, reading a freaking textbook about tax law. What’s more perfect than the image of a humble, hardworking person? Sure, at first mom will say you’re a gold digger, but after she gets to know you…”
“Oh my God- stop. Just stop. I’m not doing this.” You wave your hands. If you still had any doubts that Jimin is crazy, now you have none.
He tilts his head, quirking one eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you don’t wanna do this because you’re the low self-esteem type? Come on, you’re pretty. Basic, but pretty.”
Your jaw automatically drops. If looks could kill, he would be dead.
“Did you just call me basic?!”
Jimin sends you an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, but I can’t see an ounce of style in you. This ponytail is especially awful.”
“I fucking work in a convenience store! Of course I won’t get all dressed up!”
“Really?” You hate the way he quirks that damn eyebrow. “What about the split ends of your hair?”
You immediately feel yourself holding your own hair, as if hiding it from him. Your body heats up in anger. “Who are you to talk about my split ends?! Your hair is so dry that it looks like fucking hay. I can see the black roots from miles away!”
“Look, I’m having a pretty stressful week. It’s not like I had a lot of time to take care of myself.” Jimin crosses his arms defensively. “Besides, I’m going to the hair salon tomorrow morning.”
“Oh, yeah? You’re having a stressful week, I have a stressful life.” You pat your feet on the floor impatiently. “And no, I’m not ‘the low self-esteem’ type. I’m fucking pretty.”
“I know.”
There’s something about the way he agrees with you so quickly that makes your stomach drop for a second.
Just for a second.
“Anyway.” You clean your throat, adjusting your position on the chair. “You said yourself that you’re against fake relationships, didn’t you?”
“I said I’m against fake marriage. A life-long thing. We’ll pretend to be dating for a weekend.”
“And you think your parents will believe this theatrical act in a weekend?”
“I see them once a year. Sometimes twice. They don’t spend enough time with me to know me that well at all.” He presses his palms together and puts them in front of his face as if praying, looking at you with round, begging eyes. “Please, Y/N! All of my other girl friends are too well-known, no one would believe in me. It’s just three days! Besides, it’ll be fun, I promise! My parents booked a resort in Hawaii this year-”
You choke on thin air.
“Hawaii?!”
“I know, right? Last year it was in the Alps. Personally I prefer a tropical place much more-”
“Wait, wait.” You raise your hands, making him finally stop. “Are you seriously talking about a resort in Hawaii?!”
Jimin nods. He is serious. “See? A weekend in Hawaii! It’ll be great, right?”
“No.”
He throws his hands up and groans. “Sweet Jesus, what do I have to do to convince you?!”
“First- I don’t even have a passport.”
“I can get it in time for you. We still have a week.”
“Second- my job. If you don’t know how jobs work, you can’t simply tell your boss ‘hey, I’m spending three days in Hawaii’ out of sudden!”
“I can also-”
He stops as if choking on his own words.
Once again, you see his eyes gleaming - and you shiver as you realize that he had another (probably awful) idea.
Jimin leans his arm on the counter, a determined smirk on his lips.
“Yesterday you told me that you’d kill to have a position in my family’s company, isn’t it? Alright, then. If you go on this trip with me, I’ll give you a job in the company.”
Silence.
You think of your egg-sized apartment. You think of eating noodles constantly because it's what you can afford on a daily basis and the gastritis you’ll probably develop because of it. You think of the same old tennis shoes you wear everyday because you either buy your noodles or you save it to buy new ones. You think of working on this night shift that gave you an awful sleeping routine and purple bags around your eyes.
And, for the first time, you seriously consider doing this.
“Are you serious?” You ask with suspicion.
“Of course.” Seeing your sudden interest, he gets excited. “The company has a lot of those trainee programs. I’m sure I can put you in the financial department easily.”
“But… but if we’re going to pretend that we’re dating, won’t it be weird that your girlfriend will join the company as a trainee?”
“Do you know how many people work there? My family doesn’t even bother to know who works for them, except for the higher positions. You don’t have to work at the headquarters, either. They’ll never know.”
More tense silence.
You bounce your leg nervously, passing your hand on the back of your neck. I can’t believe I’m considering this. I don’t even know this guy at all. He might just be a freaking psychopath.
Jimin stares at you expectantly. Damn, this guy really likes to stare at people.
You should take your own morals in consideration. Are you seriously selling yourself to this spoiled manchild? Is it that easy to take things from you? Weren’t you the type to hate rich people and capitalism overall and-
Fuck it.
“A weekend, right?”
“Right.” He nods.
“Three days, right?”
“Right.”
“We impress your parents, convince them that you’re a changed guy, then you find me a job and leave me alone.”
“I’m not so sure about the leaving you alone part, but yeah, exactly.” You frown.
“And why wouldn’t you leave me alone?”
“Well, you might fall in love with me. Who knows?” He wiggles his eyebrows.
You roll your eyes, making him giggle.
I can’t believe I’m doing this.
Before you can fully comprehend the consequences of your actions, you sigh heavily and nod.
“Alright. I’m in.”
Jimin claps his hands excitedly, opening the biggest smile you’ve ever seen.
“You really are my heroine, Y/N!” He extends his arm over the counter. “We have a deal!”
You gulp and shake his hand firmly.
Your friends will definitely get shocked when you tell them the newest strange thing happening in your life:
You accept to fake date whiny millionaire man mentioned previously.
The list is increasing rapidly.
“You better do what you promised, otherwise I’m killing you.” You threaten very seriously.
Jimin laughs and - once again - quirks that damn eyebrow up.
“Of course. I wouldn’t let my girlfriend down.”
He fucking bites his bottom lip.
A heat creeps the back of your neck.
God.
You’re in trouble.
tags: @shrimpmsg @hesmyphenominiall @turquoiseandplaidinautumn @vantxx95 @sweettaeguk @moonchild1 @jikooksgirl19 @yesalexus
#ksmutclub#bangtanarmynet#btswriterscollective#jimin fanfic#jimin x reader#jimin imagine#jimin scenario#jimin smut#jimin fluff#bts jimin#park jimin#jimin fanfiction#bts x reader#bts fluff#bts smut#bts imagines#bts scenarios#fake dating au#fic:the misadventures list
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I just woke up from a nap and got an idea! Here me out!
A reader who came from another world? You know like isekai... It's going to be hard to write this one since I'm still thinking about the plot...wanna take it as a challenge? 😂 I prefer reader x draken or ran hshshshs
-penguin
Welcome back dearest Penguin! So you want me to do it just like that? without the plot? SURE! I don't consume isekai myself and I have no idea on how to do it BUT I WILL SURE TRY TO! It's middle of the night here where I live, so I think this one will be the last one for now, so let's fucking go, honey!
I have requests with Kazutora and Sanzu, but they are like serious ones and this is funny. My mind is a little shaked with sleep, so I will do this one now and the others when I wake up! Sounds like a good plan I guess
Title: Your blood in my dreams
Request: yees
Couple: Draken x g.n!reader
Category: light angst
Content Warning: blood, death by stabbing, reader's death
Word Count: 515
Summary: coming from the real world you find yourself trapped in your favorite manga, but it's their first big fight and you know Draken's life is at risk agains Moebius
A/N: this ended up okay? well, okay I guess
MASTERLIST ....... RULES ....... SERIES LIST
You wake up around a lot of people with zero knowledge on what is happening around you. You were just taking a nap, how things ended up like this? You don't do drugs and there's no reason for you to black out like this. You are sure you were sleeping before waking up at a shrine. Fuck, you don't even live in Japan! Why are you on a shrine and how did you get here?
Oh, you can see Mikey talking with his men. Why can you see him? He's not fucking real. And you are along his men? You are Toman? Fuck, the last thing you wanted to be is an extra on Tokyo Revengers. You are sure this is just a dream, but you are a big fan of this manga. This is your chance to tag along them! You also know you just need to die to wake up. Human brains have trouble creating a fake pos-death reality.
"Y/n, come here" Draken calls you when the gathering ends and you go after him. It's Draken, your 2D crush! "you free tomorrow, right?".
"Sure" you don't even know, but you said so anyway.
"We are going to the festival"
"We like we Toman or we like me-and-you we?"
"You and me" Draken smiles at you.
You know what happens at the festival, but you also know Takemichi will save Draken. The fight against Moebius start and you take Toman's side, of course. The fight is wild, but you can't see Takemichi. Where the fuck he is? He needs to save Draken so things go as planned!
"Where the fuck is Takemitchy?" you call the boy by the nickname Mikey gave him.
"Who the fuck is Takemitchy?" Baji mimics your question while taking someone down.
"Blond boy, dumb face?"
"Never heard of him" Chifuyu answer makes you shiver. You are in the past Takemichi isn't a Toman's member. You are in the past Draken dies against Moebius.
No fucking way. Your blood boils with the thrill of the fight. As soon as you see Draken you rushed over to him. There's no way he is dying today.
"Can't stay away, hm?" he laughs punching someone down "soon they will know about us, babe".
You stop. What the hell Draken is saying? Babe? You? Must be a dream.
Or a nightmare.
Kyomasa comes closer with his knife as Draken is distracted fighting three people at the same time. You know what is gonna happen. Takemichi isn't here this time. You will not let that happen. The same time Kyomasa raise his arm you stand between him and Draken. The knife is fast and heavy against your chest. There's no way you will survive this. At least you will die doing something good, right?
Draken's goodbye kiss is the last thing you feel before waking up again, now at your own bed. This sure was a sick dream. Your heart is beating fast and your body is covered with sweat. You touch your chest still in pain.
Only to find a small pinky scar there.
#tokyorev#tokyo rev x reader#tokyo revengers headcannons#tokyo revengers imagines#bee!writing#tokyo rev x you#tokyorev x reader#tokyo revengers#draken x you#draken x y/n#draken x reader#ken ryuuguji x reader#ken ryuuguji x y/n#ken ryuuguji x you
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love letter, m | jjk
pairing(s): jungkook x reader
summary: Jeon Jungkook gets love letters shoved in his mailbox and under his apartment door all the damn time. You, too, get love letters shoved in your mailbox and under your door. All the time. It could be a sweet gesture, but this is the twenty-first century. Love letters aren't all they're cracked up to be.
warnings: rated M (18+) for language; short graphic descriptions of sex acts; smut (fem reader, a very intense make-out session including some wild tongue and too much saliva, nipple play, a bit of m-receiving oral, cowgirl, handjob); non-idol!BTS – technically university, blond, softsub!Jungkook x working, softdom!reader; slightly desperate and needy JK
yes, yes, it’s MTV Unplugged ‘Telepathy’JK
--
"I'm so tired of people thinking they have a chance with me."
Was the exasperated declaration as you backed up into your apartment, only to turn around and witness Jeon Jungkook dumping a waterfall of colorful envelopes from his giant black backpack onto your hardwood floor.
"At least remove your shoes before you start flaunting how hot you are," you replied dryly.
Jungkook rolled his eyes as he kicked off his large white sneakers. "Look at this shit! It's relentless! It's annoying! I just want to live my life!"
You vaguely recalled Jungkook being excited about his first love letter upon reaching university, and then the second, the third... and now you were staring at pile number five hundred on your doormat. "I don't know, put a sign on your door? 'Please stop, the answer is no?'"
Jungkook winced. "I can't do that. How many hearts am I going to break?"
"Uh, I dunno, you already broke half the campus by existing in general."
He bonked you on the head lightly with his denim jacket sleeve. "I have not. I've only slept with a couple people and that was supposed to be no strings attached."
You shrugged. "People can't understand that. Especially women."
He puffed his cheeks and stepped over the pile. You noticed the small stickers and nice handwriting on the colorful pastel paper. You almost felt bad, seeing all the effort put into them.
"At least they're cute. I only get torn notebook pages with scribbles."
"Stop lying. You get girls' letters too," Jungkook grumbled. "Can I borrow your computer? One of my professors assigned an online quiz and the internet at my place is down, again."
"You gotta move," you commented, kneeling down to collect the mess Jungkook made. You noticed Jungkook flit his eyes about before throwing up his hands and bending down to help you.
"I'm trying to get out of the lease, but I have a couple more months left," he complained childishly.
"What about your other friends? Can't you go bother them?"
Jungkook frowned, sticking out his lower lip. The tiny mole underneath winked at you. "You hate me now or something?"
You laughed, standing up with a stacked pile of confessions to Jeon Jungkook. "No, I'm just curious as to why you always come here."
He shoved the rest in your arms, his pile slightly messier than yours. "You live the closest and you're usually home. Plus, you have two computers."
"A laptop and a desktop," you corrected. "Don't you have a laptop?"
"It's easier to borrow yours."
"Lazy."
Jungkook ignored your remark and ticked his silvery-blond head further into the apartment. "Can I borrow it or not?"
You laughed. "Of course. Laptop's on the bed."
He turned and followed the hallway to your bedroom. "Same password?" he yelled, not looking back.
"Obviously."
"Why is it my birth date?" he shouted.
"Because, one, no one will guess it, and, two, you're a dumbass and always forget it."
"I do not!"
"How many times did you ask when the password was Klingon?"
"I don't know your nerdy shit!"
"Do your fucking assignment," you belted down the hall.
Jungkook stuck his head out of your bedroom door and scrunched his nose to make a hideous face at you, holding your gunmetal-colored laptop. You rolled your eyes as he disappeared again. This crackhead. You let out a sigh, walking past the acrylic painting of a blue sky with pink-purple clouds hanging in your living room, flicking through at all the letters addressed to Jungkook.
Surprisingly, you knew what he felt like. With you, it started with inviting one guy over to your place, sucking his dick, and then suddenly a letter appeared. Well, letter was putting it nicely. Dirty napkin with words scrawled with smeared ballpoint pen shoved under your door, explicitly asking for more. Then another, wanting it. Then another, begging for it. You ignored them. At some point, you invited a girl over, ate her out, and then the colorful envelopes started appearing, with cute stickers and neat handwriting.
Mmmhmm.
Why did Jungkook bring them here anyway? To brag? For you to peruse? You spread them out them on your coffee table and tore one open. Read it. Simple confession of love, no name. You were kind of jealous. Jungkook always got nicer ones than you did. Something about being a sexually uninhibited woman seemed to translate to others that you were down to fuck anyone, anytime, anything. You tossed the letter aside, ripped open a folded card closed with lilac tape. Another, 'I love you, please go out with me', no name. Toss. And you opened another one, reading out loud.
"I want to cram all one hundred and seventy-nine centimeters of you into me?”
Uh.
Huh.
Still no name.
Cute peach stationery though.
Was it a euphemism? Symbolic? Thinly veiled code? Hm. In any case, this was more along the lines of shamelessness you encountered yourself.
By all conventions, Jeon Jungkook was attractive as fuck. Pretty pink lips, big brown eyes, manly sharp jawline. He kept his hair on the longer side, around ear length, now silvery-blond compared to the usual black. You heard he dyed it a couple times, but now it had since faded to the original blond.
Oh, yeah, also he had nice hands and a body to die for.
You could see why Jungkook got all these love letters. You? Well, similar reasons, except less muscles. Also, yours weren't really love letters. More like vulgar remarks on the backs of grubby receipts.
Probably just as heartfelt.
The only reason you knew of Jungkook was because you were friends with one of his close friends. Alright, maybe you sucked his friend's dick. More than once. But anyway, not the point. The point was that the topic of love letters came up one night when everyone was hanging out and you voiced your predicament. It was the summer before Jungkook entered university. He had burst out laughing, thinking it was a hilarious situation.
"Haha, that would never happen to me!"
Jokes on you, Jungkook, karma's a bitch.
You thought about moving, but the location was close to your work and the internet service was great here. At least you always recycled the paper. What were you supposed to do? Keep an album of Starbucks napkins of people asking if your tongue was good or not?
You opened another envelope addressed to 'sweet, adorable Jungkookie'.
Their words, not yours.
"Shove your dick down my throat and make me gag? Smiley face?"
Well, that's a contrast.
Jungkook didn't start contacting you on his own until the letters started coming and then they didn’t stop coming, flooding his mailbox and underneath his door, overwhelming and confusing him. He didn't think he would get much attention, although perhaps it might be your fault, since you seemed to have set the precedence for this type of thing at this particular university. There was at least one person in every year that got this treatment, and it all started with one dirty napkin with smeared ink. Rumor caught on and then bam! It became a thing.
So, yeah.
Maybe kind of your fault.
You shouldn't have told so many people about that napkin.
You fished out a pizza receipt from the pile, inspecting it. You couldn't find anything out of the ordinary. Then you noticed it had Jungkook's phone number and an order of three pizzas. Not a confession, just trash from Jungkook's backpack. Did he really eat three pizzas? Hopefully not by himself and in one sitting. You noticed the timestamp. Mmm, three in the morning. Okay. Maybe he did eat three pizzas by himself in one sitting.
You filed through the rest, removing trash from the recyclable paper. Paused when you found a scrap of paper that said, "Put your dick in my ass." You recognized this curvy, narrow handwriting, slightly heavy-handed. Same person wrote you the same note this week.
This was why you didn't take the messages too seriously.
You saw a particularly thick purple envelope and picked it up, tearing it open. It was several pages, with tiny, crammed handwriting on paper with cute bunnies on it. Several pages detailing straight up porn with Jungkook as the leading role.
You almost burst out laughing.
Who the fuck would write this?
And send it to him?
Not you, that's for fucking sure.
Still, it wasn't the worst thing you've ever read. Had some spelling mistakes and poor grammar. Instant turn-off. Needed a good proofread. You settled onto your brown leather couch, highly entertained as you read it. Then you actually burst out laughing, because said person wanted Jungkook to lift them and fuck them at the same time and that kinda shit just wasn't possible. You would know, because you’ve tried. It sounded good, but in practice, the dick ended up falling out pretty quickly if the pussy was any sort of wet.
If you weren’t wet, then, eh, not sure why you're fucking.
"What is so fucking funny?" Jungkook grumbled, poking his head around the corner, still holding your laptop.
You held up the sheets of bunny-printed paper, still laughing. "Someone sent you their written erotica and you're the star!"
Jungkook grimaced. "Oh yeah, that person. They write something new every week. It's weird." He frowned. "I try to take it out so you don't have to read that shit. I must have missed it."
"It's hilarious," you chuckled. "You should publish them into a book."
"You know I can't do that," Jungkook sighed, putting your laptop on the coffee table and snatching the pages from you. "I throw them away like everything else."
"Did you finish your assignment?" you chortled, leaning over to look at the laptop screen. Submission successful. "80%?! When you could easily cheat?"
"I read a question wrong," Jungkook whined, balling up the paper and throwing it down. "Ack."
You looked up at him and he was looking upset at the pile on the table.
"What's wrong?"
"What if one of them is real?"
"Huh?"
"I mean... I just throw them away now. But what if one of them is real?" Jungkook wondered out loud.
You shrugged. "Does it matter? They'll tell you in person if it's that important."
Jungkook tilted his head at you doubtfully. "Will they?"
You sat back into your couch, with your legs wide open. You were wearing sleek black leggings and a cropped pink sweatshirt. Not the most ladylike pose, but you didn't really care. You gestured to the stack of letters on your wooden coffee table.
"They should. If they actually like you and it's not a joke, then they should tell you in person and accept that they might be rejected."
Jungkook frowned and slumped down next to you. His light-wash denim jacket made a loud floof as his ass hit the brown leather cushions. The wash of his jeans matched his jacket. He wore a white graphic t-shirt under. It looked vintage, but it probably wasn’t.
"What if they're nervous?" he questioned, twisting his pink lips around.
"So what? Everyone's nervous. We all live in a perpetual state of terror."
Jungkook rolled his eyes.
You leaned forward and plucked a sky-blue memo note from the table, reading it out loud. "I love you. Marry me." You held it out to him. "See? You get nice ones. I get, ‘choke me like you hate me’ and 'shove your tongue into my asshole, please'. Rarely do I get is that please at the end," you finished with a dry laugh. You looked up to see Jungkook staring back at you. Your laugh died a little seeing his serious expression.
"Yes."
You blinked at him. "What?"
Jungkook ticked his chin to the note, then shifted his eyes to you.
You pointed to the memo sheet and raised an eyebrow. "I didn't write this."
"I did."
He was so serious that you couldn't laugh. You just blinked at him rapidly and turned your head to look at the sky-blue memo sheet, finally recognizing the clean, block-like handwriting and spotting the bottom right corner. English letters. A J and a K fused together, the way Jungkook usually signed his paintings.
You dropped the note like it was on fire.
Jerked your head up, not to him, but to the painting across from you in the living room, the one with the blue sky and pink-purple clouds, with a tiny JK signature in black at the bottom right corner. The painting you asked Jungkook to make you a while back.
"You paint, right? I want something calm for my living room. I bought a canvas, so about this size. It's that cool?"
Jungkook had squinted his eyes, nodding. "Yeah, I could draw a pretty big dick on it."
"This is for my living room, dumbass. And I said I wanted something calm."
"A flaccid dick then."
You turned your head back to Jungkook of now, who was wringing his hands on his thighs, wiping off his palms. He noticed you watching him and puffed one cheek before letting out a big sigh.
"I was... gonna leave it on your laptop," Jungkook mumbled, flapping a hand to the sky-blue note. "But I couldn't find it in my backpack, and then I realized one of the pockets was open, the one where I keep receipts... anyway I had put the note there, so I came out to see if it was in the pile... yup, there it is."
He sucked in his cheek and fell back against the leather sofa.
"Was a joke."
Jungkook's voice sounded hollow. Empty.
"... Ah." You tucked the tip of your tongue in your cheek.
"Not the greatest joke," he added flatly.
“No, it’s not,” you agreed. "Jokes that are insincere are bad jokes."
The black words glared back up at you, contrasting the pale azure paper. You picked up the memo sheet again. Turned to face him, holding it up next to Jungkook's head of silvery-blond hair. He pursed his lips and looked away from you, jaw clenched in nervousness.
"Just say it."
He puffed one cheek again. "It was a joke."
"Then why are you saying it in past tense?"
His brown orbs shifted from side to side before Jungkook tried to bolt out of his seat, only for you to slam a hand down on his shoulder and throw a leg over him, straddling his lap before pinning the note to his chest. He yelped sharply and looked up at you with huge, shaking irises.
In all your time knowing him, you never tried to sleep with Jungkook.
Never.
You jabbed the note into his white shirt and he gave you a terrified squeak in response.
You scrutinized his face, jaw slack, eyes wide, blond curls framing his chiseled cheekbones. One of your eyebrows raised, your voice calm and unfazed.
"Say it."
"You say it," Jungkook finally shot back, furrowing his brows, biting on his lip and mustering up the most indignant look he could produce at this very second. You didn’t react. He seemed to have forgotten you did, in fact, say it, although perhaps that wasn’t exactly what he meant.
You never tried to fuck Jungkook because he didn’t treat you as anything more than his primary source of internet when his own was down. Ah, and also his outlet for complaining about his love letter problem. And then there was that other little wrinkle, the unwritten societal rule one of sucking a guy's dick you're still friends with - don't suck his friends' dicks. Surefire way to fuck up a friendship, especially if the dude’s ego was fragile.
Jungkook’s friend was dating someone else now though. His ego couldn’t be that fragile.
You leaned forward and Jungkook's annoyed gaze faltered. He gulped and tried to shrink into your brown leather couch, as if he could somehow disappear under you.
"I love you," you stated clearly and firmly. You glanced at the slightly crumpled piece of blue paper before your eyes flickered back to his face. "Marry me."
Hah, the thing about rules with you was...
Fuck 'em.
Not actually.
Eh, not the point.
"Really?" Jungkook squeaked, voice cracking slightly.
Ah, right, the other reason you never tried to sex up Jungkook because he was a little bit of an idiot around you. But maybe this sky-blue note detailed the reason for it.
"Say it," you repeated crossly, poking him in the pecs. "Stop avoiding it."
You observed Jungkook swallow hard again, Adam’s apple bobbing. You furrowed your brows, tipping your head down so that your forehead was hovering over his, eyebrow cocked, gazing into trembling brown orbs. Why was he taking so long? He wrote the damn words. Were they really just a joke? Hmph, why were you even trying then?
That’s how everyone was.
Not putting any stock or thought into their fucking words.
You lifted your finger but Jungkook’s right hand, the one with tiny tattoos, suddenly darted in your view, grabbing your hand back and jamming your finger onto his chest again. His heartbeat raced under your fingertip, thud-thud-thud, rapid bass accenting the moment. Electrifying it.
“Don’t.”
Whisper so faint you frowned and closed even more distance between you two, picking up the scent of vanilla fabric softener and lush cotton. A little different than you, who used a blackberry and spiced vanilla perfume.
“I like this,” Jungkook breathed under you, chewing his lip anxiously. You could feel his warm breath tickling your lips and chin with how close you were. You could count his individual eyebrow hairs, even though the eyebrow product he used.
“I… really like this.”
He let go of your hand.
Now you raised both eyebrows.
You slowly uncurled your middle finger, landing it on his chest next to the index. You felt him shiver a little, lips parting. Straightened your ring finger, planting it down. His lashes lowered a little, brown orbs on your face, watching your reaction to him. You could count the moles on his face. The one on his nose. The one on his cheek. The one under his lower lip. The one on his neck. Your pinky slid onto his chest. A wispy moan left his lips, eyelids fluttering, blond strands floating around his head with the little rise and fall of his heavy, tense exhale.
Why is it your birth date?
Take a wild guess, dumbass.
Your fingers abruptly dug into his white t-shirt, crumpling the note and scrunching the graphic up in your fist. He inhaled sharply, head tipping back and lips nearing yours, a whine escaping his throat. You quirked an eyebrow, drawing back slightly, taking in the rich depth of his tan skin, the sensual line of his neck, up to his angular chin and his dangling silver earrings. All of it. His hands immediately came up to grab your wrist and forearm, ensuring you and himself that you wouldn’t let go, the tendons in your flexed wrist right against his large palm.
“Say it, Jungkook,” you demanded. “Say those words with your pretty pink tongue hanging out your mouth for me.”
You watched him obey immediately, tongue sliding out and touching his lower lip, brown eyes framed by his long lashes and hazy with lust.
“I love you,” Jungkook breathed, a little gargled with his tongue out. “Fucking marry me, please.”
Ah, you couldn't help it.
You smirked.
"What about all your admirers?" you murmured, twisting your fingers in his shirt, digging your nails into his chest. "You'll break all those poor hearts you’re worried about."
Those dark brown eyes told you they didn't give a single fuck.
"What about you?" he countered, closing his mouth a little to speak more clearly.
"Me?"
The definition of trouble?
Well, if you looked that up in a dictionary, there would definitely be a picture of you.
Jungkook’s lips parted once more, keen to submit to your wickedness, pink tongue slipping out again, shiny and glistening with saliva. Breathing shallowly, rubbing your wrist with his thumb, encouraging you to keep going.
Your lips curved into a treacherous smile.
"I'll break all the hearts to get to yours, Jungkook."
And then you licked his tongue.
A low moan bubbled from Jungkook's chest, his eyes rolling back and his hips bucking up, desperate for friction as the tip of your wet muscle glided over his warm softness, your spit dripping down his throat, listening to his moans turn into messy garbles of your name, begging you, pleading you, more, more, kiss me, please, and you hooked your tongue around his, gently nudging his jaw with your other hand. Knuckle to chin, tilting your head as your lips closed onto Jungkook's.
It was not a neat kiss.
There was spit running down his chin, dripping onto his neck and your skin, your lips roughly working his, tongues intertwined and making even more of a mess, you sucking forcefully to earn pained, delicious whines. Jungkook was far too turned on to attempt to glamorize it, cries a jumbled mess under your greedy mouth, but none of that mattered. The moment was sensual and dark, bodies speaking to each other through dopamine and adrenaline. Your hand released his shirt, breaking his grip, switching to burrowing your fingers into his soft blond hair and running your nails over his scalp, leaving lines of prickling pain to enhance your kiss.
"F-Fuck, oh fuck, yes..."
Your teeth caught his tongue, pulling back and forcing his head to follow. Jungkook made a pained noise, trapped in your embrace, whining as you took him to the brink. You released him swiftly and he snapped backward, blinking hard, trying to reorient himself, but it was impossible, your lips crashing down again, thrusting your tongue into his mouth aggressively, one eye open to witness his fucked-out state, pupils unfocused, long lashes quivering, moaning into your mouth and you inhaling it all, literally taking his breath away.
It started out with a kiss.
How did it end up like this?
It was only a kiss.
It was only a kiss.
You dropped your lower half onto his crotch and Jungkook gasped, breaking the kiss, strings of spit breaking between you two. You smirked wickedly as you felt his hardness trying to escape its clothing jail, his large hands already on your thighs and hips, sinking his fingers into the soft fabric of your leggings, rocking you into him, desperately trying to get some stimulation.
"Please," he croaked, panting for breath, pulling himself up to sitting position, so easy and smooth, fuck, so sexy, and now Jungkook was in your face, pleas on the tip of his tongue pouring out, tempting you, wanting it.
"Please, wanna be yours so fucking bad, seeing all those fucking letters and notes you get, and it pisses me off, it's me, I want it to be me, I want to be yours and I'm telling you to your face."
Whisper achingly hot, deep voice soaked with longing, staring into your eyes with those shaking brown orbs, spinning with emotion like an unstable top, barely enough torque holding it in place and all it took was another spin to encourage it or a gust of rejection to topple it over.
"And you don't even care about mine, you think they're fucking funny, fuck, I can't stand it, let it be me, please..."
His hands running up your sides, grazing against your breasts, and now his hands were in your hair and yours were in his, bringing your face close, the crumpled sky-blue note right between your joined crotches, forgotten, witnessing the agonizing lust wound tightly in this embrace.
"Let it be me," Jungkook begged.
You licked your lips slowly, scarcely swiping against his. He shuddered, leaning into it, taking whatever crumbs you gave. His long fingers tensed in your hair, yours buried in the dark roots of his.
"You'll have to skip the marriage bit for now," you teased lightly. "I don't think my parents will appreciate you slapping down papers before you finish school."
Jungkook snickered, tucking his tongue in his cheek roguishly. "Can't they understand I have to snatch this ass as soon as possible to make people back off?"
Your hands slipped down to his jaw, fitting it in your palms, his silvery-blond stands wrapped around your fingertips. "They'll back off my door once they hear you screaming my name."
You leaned in, but Jungkook stopped you, brown orbs glittering with mischief to get in one more quip.
"I doubt it," he purred.
Yeah.
Jungkook was right.
Ah, well.
You seized his face and kissed him again, fuck, such malleable lips just pleading to be bitten by you, gazing up his nose and to his beautiful eyes, his soft skin in your hands, clenching his jaw under your power, letting you have it, letting you control it and him. You felt him scramble and throw his denim jacket off, dumping it onto your couch to cup your cheeks with his hands, sighing in satisfaction as you inhaled him. Your tongue lazily traced the outskirts of his lips, hearing the rattle of his beaded bracelets by your ears, amused, knowing they were his good luck charms.
"They bring good luck," he had answered when you saw them for the first time.
You remembered tilting your head at the wooden beads on his slim wrists. "You trying to get your dick sucked or something?"
He had broken out in a loud guffaw. Nudged you with his elbow, cheeky smile on his lips.
"Never gonna say no to getting my dick sucked."
"Mhm, cool, where's my painting of the flaccid dick?"
From then on, you noticed he wore the same wooden, beaded bracelets every time he came to your apartment.
Hmm.
Now, your hands falling from his face, yanking his shirt from his pants, annoyed it was getting caught, and then Jungkook fitted his hands around your ass and lifted you easily, breaking the kiss, a moment for you to bear witness to his arms flexing – holy fuck, that’s sexy – right one covered in tattoos. Images and script, with one catching your eye, a string of words running up the inside of his upper arm. One you recognized because you had those words written on your bedroom wall, on a canvas hanging above your bed. A canvas you made, background a chaotic mess of varying dark red brushstrokes, the black script in the center, written by your hand.
The exact black script with your flourishes and ticks, now tattooed on the inside of his right arm.
Your eyes drifted to Jungkook's face and his naughty smirk, pleased to be found out. Your lips formed the sentence slowly, in awe of his audacity.
"The devil knows my name."
the devil knows my name.
Hung above your bed, where all manner of marvelous sinful acts were performed.
Jungkook grinned deviously. "I saw it. I wanted it on me."
Wanted it on him.
Oh, fuck.
Did he know? Could he guess?
"Who's the devil?" you whispered, smile widening, matching his.
Jungkook reached down, yanking his t-shirt out of his jeans and pulling it up and over his head, revealing the body he sculpted himself, tan skin taut over hard muscle, toned and...
"You're the devil, of course," he snickered.
Yours.
"Ding dong daeng," you sing-songed.
How many people have been on your bed, head pulled back by your hand, blinking hard, trying to read the words on your wall through waves of forced ecstasy? Gasping them out, ending with a question, inquiring for an answer.
The devil knows my name?
And you, leaning forward, haunting whisper in their ears, yes, she does, before pushing their face down into the sheets.
"All those love letters not good enough for you, Jungkook?" you breathed, running your hands over his bare chest, spreading your fingers, letting your exhale out through your teeth. His eyes on you, torso trembling, hairs raising, feeling your nails dance up, up, raking over his collarbones and neck, leaving little pink lines of intensity.
"They're not you," he whispered. His hands brushing over yours, outlining your fingers, eyes darkening as you pushed him back into your sofa, lowering your head. "You, the one they talk about..." Your lips on his hot skin, kissing softly, tongue so slight that it made him whimper. "You, the one they look for..." His voice, deep and rumbling, vibrating your lips, pitching as you bit and sucked, leaving small hickeys. "You, the one whose bed I sit on, wondering who else has been there, wondering why it's not me, when I make myself available to you, so easy to prey on, but you let me be..." Your lips closing around his dark brown nipple, scraping your teeth against it, making him squirm and look down at you, you and your self-satisfied, ravenous smirk.
"I let you read them," Jungkook whimpered, blond strands curled around his cheeks, chest shuddering at your nail flicking his other nipple while your mouth worked the other. "Let you see everything they want to do to me and you still didn't know."
You chuckled darkly. "What's there to know?" you mused, sticking your tongue out and pressing it against the now hard pink-tinged nub, receiving small whines of pleasure as your reward. "It's obvious what you wanted. I was right in front of you. All you had to do was say something."
Jungkook frowned as you sat up, tongue in cheek, half-grinning.
"Look at you."
You crossed your arms and pulled your pink cropped sweatshirt up and over your head, dropping it to the floor. Casually running a hand through the top of your hair to pull it away from your face, gazing down at shirtless Jungkook covered in your red bites, cocking your head with a smirk. He raised an eyebrow, eyes roaming over your figure and the curve of your breasts molded to smooth black satin.
"You look like you eat hearts for breakfast," he murmured, admiration in his tone.
The side of your lips quirked further upwards.
"And yet you wanna love me."
Jungkook grinned. "I don't want to. I already do."
And then he was the one to pull you to him, kissing you hungrily, you immediately turning it into your favor, your pace, his tongue commanded by yours as he unhooked your bra, moaning into your mouth, rubbing your exposed nipples with his palms, unable to do much as you pushed him into the couch again, guiding his tongue down with your teeth and running the tip of yours over his wet muscle once more, trickling saliva into his throat and onto his chin and neck, messy and lewd.
"The devil knows your name," you sighed into his mouth, feeling him knead your breasts, thumbs brushing over your hard nipples, tendrils of pleasure making your skin tingle. "And now the devil takes what she wants."
You saw the sides of his lips curve upwards as you backed up to strip the rest of your clothes, amused at Jungkook eagerly following suit and unbuttoning his jeans.
"Can't wait to flaunt how hot you are?" you laughed, reaching down to the shelf under the side table where a ceramic R2-D2 cookie jar sat.
"Do you think I'm hot?" Jungkook haughtily accused before gawking at your waist to ass ratio, his hands slowing, pants stopped to his knees in his distraction.
You gently took off the head of R2-D2 and plucked a condom from it. Some guy told you once that you couldn't like Star Trek and Star Wars at the same time and you told him to shut the fuck up as you slapped his nuts. He begged you to do it again. You fondly patted R2-D2's head after you fitted it back.
You straightened to see Jungkook on your couch with his hard dick on display.
You looked him dead in the eye. "You think I'd let you borrow my laptop if I thought you were ugly?"
Jungkook broke out of his trance and shrugged, finally yanking his calves – holy shit, his calves and thighs were muscular as fuck – out of his jeans, underwear and socks gone with them.
"Maybe you pitied my grades."
"I'd just pay for you to go to the library and fuck off, dumbass," you muttered, pushing his hands aside and ripping the condom open, drinking in the delicious sight of his throbbing red cock dripping pre-cum, his balls just waiting for – fuck it, you got down on your knees and wrapped your tongue around his length, Jungkook sputtering and gasping at your suddenness. Fuck, he smelled and tasted fucking good, clean and velvety to your lips enclosing around the head and sliding down, using one hand to scoop up his balls. Made eye contact with him again.
Jungkook breathed your name hesitantly.
Your tongue slid out of your lips and you jammed his cock all the way down your throat, slathering his balls wetly with your whisking tongue, circling around one and then the other, long expansive strokes that went past the girth of his cock, your pink tongue visible to him. Jungkook's pupils blew wide with shock, moans catching in his throat, whole body shivering, trying desperately not to look away even through you could tell he wanted to throw himself into your sofa and fucking lose it.
"Oooooooh, fuck, that's amazing.... Holy shit, your tongue is everything...."
You chuckled and pulled your head back, satisfied with his reaction. He seemed slightly disappointed until you rolled down the condom, cracking your neck.
"I think I've given enough." You stood up, getting back on top of him and his glorious thighs. "Time for you to be taken."
Jungkook smirked.
You smirked wider and more wickedly.
The sky-blue memo was crumpled into a ball, fallen to your hardwood floor.
Held him with two fingers, ugh, the weight of his cock, fuck yes, and those beautiful dark chocolate eyes, Jungkook, you dumbass, cursing that he didn't tell you sooner so that you could watch him groan and throw his head back like he was right now, gasping at your tightness, your name torn from his throat as you took in every centimeter of him, every pulsing vein and contour of his wonderful cock, stupid Jungkook and his attractive self not using his damn words so you could ride him like you were right now, setting up a fast, bruising pace. Your fingers dug into the back of the couch as you bucked your hips into his violently, keeping yourself tight because you were so fucking wet, fuck, so wet for Jeon Jungkook and his idiotic self, asking for internet to do his school assignments and not asking for his dick to be used as your fucking joystick.
Dumbass.
"Oh fuck," Jungkook gasped. "Oh, fuck, you're so wet and tight, shit, shit, shit..."
"Tell me something I haven't heard before," you chuckled, only half-meaning it, waving your entire body to deliver a particularly hard smack to his crotch, Jungkook whimpering under you, his hands flying to your upper arms and clutching them, trying to hold on to your wildness.
"Holy fuck, you have some hard biceps," he blurted out, startled at the prominent muscle.
Well, you haven't heard that one before.
"Guess that's what happens when you jack off a lot of dick," you mused nonchalantly.
You ticked your head to Jungkook's arms – delicious – and he frowned at you, opening his mouth to protest and you cut him off by shoving two fingers into his lips, pressing them down into the wet warmth, grinning maniacally as you watched him struggle with your fingers rubbing his tongue and his cock getting assaulted by you aggressively slamming your hips down and clamping around his stiffness, tighter, faster, whines of your name in his throat, head falling back onto the couch with a flump. You were careful not to push your fingers too far.
Getting vomited on wasn't really on your sexual activities bingo card.
Jungkook was, however, drooling down his chin and neck, and you pulled back to grab his shoulder with your wet hand – oh, fuck, his shoulder, what a lovely shape – and Jungkook wheezed for breath, you ignoring it as you focused all your energy on fucking the life out of him, dirty squelches and smacks of hips on hips, staring down at his abs and v-line, all his hard work at the gym on display, his hands still on your upper arms as he raised his hips to meet yours, needily moaning for you to destroy him with your pace.
Damn, maybe you would have sent him a love letter if you had seen him naked at least once.
"A-Ask me to cum for you," Jungkook finally got out, voice hoarse from breathing so hard for so long.
"You're going to anyway," you taunted.
"Want you to ask," he whined, almost pouting. "Tell me to do it."
You gazed into his eyes, into those brown irises overtaken by black pupils, him a top spinning by your hand, your plaything commanded by your body, pussy clenching around his twitching cock, spurred on from his pleading tone, giving him a devious and wicked grin, speaking to his swollen lips, the devil knows your name, Jungkook, and him moaning back, fuck yes she does, so close, so fucking close, unashamedly barreling towards your release, power in your veins and under you, his muscles rippling as he fucked you back, amplifying every thrust.
"Jungkook."
"Y-Yes?"
"Say it."
Brown eyes locked with yours.
"I love you. Marry me."
You smirked.
"Cum for me."
A half-second and then you let go, letting the feeling rush in and envelop you, the moment held back to torture him, and now you felt it all, already at the tipping point, strained moan as your orgasm crashed into you, shudders all over and falling, sitting all the way down in his lap to experience the throbbing ache of your core giving out and spilling onto his cock and balls in rapid bursts, viscous and sweet. The scent of sex mixing with blackberry and spiced vanilla, his length jerking inside you, and only then did you hear Jungkook crying out your name over and over, the roar in your ears fading out to his shivering moans, hands sliding up and down your arms, eyes closing and lost in the pleasure of your pussy squeezing out his cum. His touch travelling down to your waist, pulling you to him.
Messy, soft kisses, your name and curses mixed together.
"It's me, right?"
You smiled into his mouth that was still asking questions.
"Please let it be me. You'll let me love you for real, right?"
Pushing your hair back, his sweaty blond locks sticking to your face.
"Because I already do, can't stop, won't stop–"
"Yeah, Jungkook, funnily enough I figured that from the first kiss already," you chuckled, running your fingers through his ash blond hair and pulling his head back lightly, seeing him pout, the mole underneath his lower lip peeking out.
"But..."
"Hm?"
His voice suddenly small, vulnerable, his semi-hard dick still inside you.
"Do you love me?"
You lifted a brow. "What kind of dumbass question is that?" You grabbed his arm and pressed your nail into his tattoo of your words, drawing a pink scratch under them, making him gasp. "How can I not love you? Fuck, that's the sexiest thing I've ever seen, my handwriting tattooed onto you. Yes, I love you, Jungkook."
Jungkook's jaw dropped.
This fool is still shocked after all this?
You reached down and held the condom down as you lifted yourself off, yanking him to his feet, pushing Jungkook to your coffee table, right in front of the pile of letters with his name all over them. You picked up your laptop and pushed it onto his chest, forcing him to hold it, him still confused, mildly stunned, not knowing what the fuck was happening.
Then you made him half-straddle your coffee table and yanked off the condom.
"Um–"
Grabbed his cock and started furiously jacking him off.
"Oh, f-fuck!"'
And then he realized what you were doing, the sheer wrongness of it, getting harder and harder with every second, throbbing in your hand.
"You're just like them," you chuckled through exerted breath.
Faster, rougher, tighter, Jungkook clutching your laptop, his larger frame leaning against yours, head thrown back so far that his blond hair was brushing your shoulder, moaning lustfully as he thrusted his hips into your grip. White pooled onto the purple-red tip of his abused cock, far too sensitive to be jacked off this hard right after orgasm, but Jungkook begged you not to stop, streams of residual cum running down your slicked fingers.
"Always looking for your fix from the addiction that's me," you whispered into his ear, laced with an authoritative growl.
You saw Jungkook's head lower out of your periphery, eyes opening, staring at the colorful envelopes with his name printed on them, the cute stickers and neat handwriting, panting your name, tendons and veins standing out on his neck, sweat beading on his tan skin.
A low, dangerous chuckle rising in his throat.
"There's a difference between them and me."
You felt his cock twitch in your hand, ridiculously hard at what you two were about to do.
"They're not going to get their fix."
Jungkook shuddered against you, jerking his hips forward, thick white strings splattering all over the pastel paper as you watched, fascinated, the scent of his cum saturating the air and the envelopes, drops soaking and smearing the carefully written ink, time wasted and defiled.
"I am," he moaned, twisting his body on your arms, leaning down to kiss you hungrily as you squeezed his cock, draining it all out, all over your coffee table and coating your hand, stained with Jeon Jungkook's love letter to you.
--
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#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#bts smut#jungkook smut#jungkook fanfic#jeon jungkook x reader#jeon jungkook x you#jeon jungkook smut
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Also, the writers' failure to understand, every crime Jason committed had a motive. Attack other criminals? Holy warrior destined to purify the world of evil. Attack Bruce? Joker's still alive. (Oh, Jason, it's much worse than that.) Attack Tim? A parody of what he once was. He wasn't just a "bad boy". He was dangerously insane.
Hi, Anon! Yup, there seems to be a lot of things that writers have gotten confused about Jason Todd/Red Hood and the biggest one is his motivations to kill certain criminals.
Let’s be honest, Judd Winick set a golden path for the upcoming Red Hood writers. But each and every writer that used Red Hood in their stories completely missed the point of Jason’s character. All of them. It’s so incredibly wild to me that every other writer read UtRH and came up with whichever version of Jason they came up with.
Let’s list the writers that completely missed the point.
Geoff Johns in Teen Titans vol.3 #29.
Geoff Johns was one of the first to completely mischaracterize Jason, why on earth would Jason go to the Titans Tower to beat up Tim? This is not me saying that Jason would never do that because Jason thinks of Tim as his brother or a friend or the person that he can trust the most from the Bat-Clan (can you believe Lobdell tried to sell us that one?), this is me saying that Jason wouldn’t have done that because he couldn’t have given less of a fuck about Tim’s existence.
When Jason found out that Bruce had another Robin he wasn’t bothered by his “replacement” he was mad at Bruce for having another child playing hero after he lost his life as a fifteen-year-old. Jason didn’t even think of Tim as his replacement as fandom likes to make us believe, Jason called Tim “pretender”. And that was that, but to go from minimal recognition to go out of his way to beat him up at Titans Tower is a massive mischaracterization.
Paul Dini in Countdown (to Final Crisis).
Paul Dini in Countdown did absolutely nothing with Jason, I am sorry but that’s all he did. Him writing Jason was like watching a dog trying to catch their own tail. He started with a pretty basic take on UtRH Jason, then he added a bit of Jason being an annoying man with Donna, then we had the jealousy arc because apparently, Jason had the hots for Donna but she didn’t want anything to do with him and he was all angsty when she paid attention to Kyle instead of him, and then, later on, he had that whole Red Robin bullshit (I am sorry about this, but I absolutely hated that, it was so dumb, I am so glad it didn’t last long because it was just too bad), and after all that mix of just not interesting stuff he went right back to the Jason that he had at the very start. It was a waste of time, but I guess that he had to be there because he was an anomaly and all that. I just think that was DC’s first try at making Jason Todd/Red Hood something more than just a street-level vigilante and they failed miserably.
Tony S. Daniel in Batman: Battle for the Cowl.
Even though the first two did make mistakes with Jason’s characterizations, this man was the first to just throw UtRH out of the window and make up his very own version of Jason Todd. And his version was horrendous, that Jason had no problem with attempting to kill children and innocent people, he also really wanted to be Batman because Gotham needed a Batman and he wanted to be the person to wear the Cowl and he was looking for a Robin for himself.
I know, the whole concept is the perfect opposite of what Jason Todd and Red Hood were in UtRH. Every aspect of BftC Jason is based on nothing.
Jason wanting to be Batman because Gotham needed Batman is just the beginning of what’s wrong in this book. Jason became the Red Hood (in part) because he believed that Batman and his ways weren’t what Gotham needed so he made a better version of Batman with Red Hood (according to him) because Red Hood did what Batman refused to do. Another thing that is just wrong is Jason wanting, Damian, Tim or Dick to be his Robin, there is just so much wrong with this, first of all, Jason wanted Batman to stop having Robin because child soldiers ran the risk of dying at a very young age and that’s exactly how he saw the whole thing because that was what had happened to him. Second, if Jason was mad at Bruce for getting another Robin why would he now want one of his own to team up with his Batman? Damian was a child, Tim was someone that apparently Jason hated (because Jason beating Tim was mentioned in this event), and then Jason actually asked Dick Grayson, Nightwing, to be his Robin? Listen, there is no way that was Jason, nothing about him makes sense, even taking into account that Jason had beaten Tim already in this event Jason actually tried to kill both Tim and Damian (it might have been just one of them but yeah, it still doesn’t make sense).
I just don’t think that Tony S. Daniel knew who Jason Todd was, maybe he got confused but the thing is, his “villainous” and deranged version of Jason Todd allowed a villainous and deranged version of Red Hood to happen with the next writer that I will be talking about.
Grant Morrison in Batman and Robin vol.1 #3-6.
This was the birth of the villainous, deranged and bloodthirsty Red Hood. There is absolutely no trace of UtRH Jason here, not even if we are looking at the opposite of things like we could do with Daniel’s Jason. Grant Morrison wanted Dick and Damian to have a villain to match their Batman and Robin and they decided to give us a red-haired-pill-headed-red hood. Everything from Morrison’s characterization of Jason is crazy, from the red hair (hello pre-crisis) to the awful Joker’s Red Hood looking suit, everything was just weird.
I still don’t believe that was Jason, to be honest, I would rather think that version of Jason was actually a rouge Skrull that came all the way from the Marvel Universe and lost his way in Gotham City. Maybe when he made the jump between universes, he got too much information and got confused and took the form of the wonkiest Jason Todd he could come up with.
This Jason was absolutely deranged, he knew exactly what he was doing and he didn’t care if innocents died. This Jason was the one that got locked up in Arkham. This is the Jason that Dick put in Arkham for Jason and everybody else’s safety.
Dick putting that Jason in Arkham wasn’t a bad thing or something that anyone can use to shit on Dick Grayson (not on this house). This Arkham was reformed and that Jason knew that if he stayed in that new Arkham he would stay away from trouble, but here is the thing, that Jason loved trouble, so he took all the tests to prove he wasn’t insane and asked to be transferred to Blackgate (where all the Red Hood’s enemies were). That Jason didn’t ask to be sent to Blackgate because the Joker was a cell away from his in Arkham, he did it so he could go on a killing spree in Blackgate (which he did when he got there).
Skrull Jason was just bloodthirsty and nothing like UtRH Jason, he had no motive other than just killing for fun or whatever. He didn’t want to protect Gotham and he couldn’t have cared less about the drug trade in Gotham. In Batman and Robin vol.1. Jason Todd was unrecognizable. And luckily, we never saw him again.
Scott Lobdell in Everything that he ever wrote about Red Hood.
This one is pretty self-explanatory. Lobdell was the king of overpowering Jason, he was the one that drove Red Hood farther and farther away from his street-level vigilante status. He continuously added more to him, he was a big deal because he was meant to take down Ra’s al Ghul, he was a big deal because he was the only human to train in the All-Castle and learned to summon the All-Blades.
This Red Hood’s morals and ideals were kind of gone, there just wasn’t any kind of interest in Jason to get rid of drugs or try to control its trade in Gotham, he just had no interest in street-level threats, everything was extraordinary in both New 52 and Rebirth. If he wasn’t in space he was in some mystical land. His friends and allies became even more and more powerful, his level of power was completely off compared to the others. His personality was ever-changing and quite honestly you could barely see the Jason that he once was.
This Jason also was very inconsistent in the way that he felt towards people (obviously because Lobdell is a shitty writer), he wanted to follow Batman’s rules and was shown as someone that still had fond memories of his life with Bruce before he died but was also willing to let those memories go, to move on? Maybe? I don’t know. But he changed his mind about Bruce and following his rules or not for a very long time. Jason was also a little bitch about Dick, and he was a little bitch because he (Lobdell) never gave the reader or anyone a concrete reason as to why he hated him so much and then in Rebirth he decided that Dick wasn’t that bad. Also, Jason went from “Willis Todd, abusive husband and father that deserved to die” to “Willis Todd abusive husband and father but he sent me letters when he was in prison and Penguin had him killed so now, I really want to avenge him”. Yeah, I don’t really know why that happened and like most of Lobdell’s arcs and stuff it was never really completed or well thought out.
Lobdell’s Jason characterization was a mess for ten years and that’s the prime reason why Jason is a character with no solid background, story or future.
James Tynion IV in Red Hood and the Outlaws.
Tynion’s Jason Todd was a hero, he was like a mini Tom King Batman. Everything he did was right and there was just no way that you could bamboozle him. This Jason was able to hold to Blades that drained his soul as well as hosting the Untitled in his body (that were able to drain his soul too) and on top of all that he completed his journey of the Chosen One by making those ancient martial arts moves that he learned before he was Robin even though Talia hadn’t been able to master it yet.
Scott Snyder, Tim Seeley in Batman Eternal and Batman and Robin Eternal.
A mess, this was pure New 52 levels of bullshit and they all just wanted to push the “Batfamily” and while Dick was gone, they were trying to make Jason fill the void that Dick left in Batman events. It didn’t work at all and all they did was mess around with Jason’s characterization more.
Geoff Johns in Three Jokers.
I have talked enough about Johns’ takes on Jason Todd and Red Hood, but let me tell you something real quick, if a writer thinks that the best they can do with a character is make them give up their morals/ideals for an unrequited love interest, then they can keep that idea for themselves. Geoff Johns wrote a book that was absolutely not needed and then proceeded to butcher every characterization that he could, Three Jokers was three issues long and he managed to add more trauma to Jason’s torture, push the narrative of Jason being at fault for his own murder and make Jason’s motivations to be the Red Hood weak enough to make him want to give up his work for a woman that he barely knows (and doesn’t like him at all).
Joshua Williamson in Future State: Red Hood and Robin #5.
Now, with Williamson I have issues only when he writes Jason, not because his stories are bad, don’t get me wrong, I would have completely enjoyed FS: Red Hood if it weren’t for the completely unnecessary Rose/Jason side plot he had going on. Jason was clearly working undercover for some people that he hated working with. He had to arrest or kill “masks” (vigilantes, just like he “used” to be) for the Magistrate.
His ideas were pretty solid, Jason did the job but he never killed the masks and actively didn’t trust the Magistrate but he was working there to tear them apart from within, and that’s amazing if Williamson had given us Jason Todd/Red Hood working undercover to dismantle an organization I would have been really happy.
But that’s not all he gave us, even if I just forget about his failed attempt at giving Jason a relationship, I can still see that Williamson is the kind of writer that wants (or is just following DC) to make the “Batfamily” happen no matter how dumb and out of place it looks in comics’ canon. So, I am a little bit weary, any writer that leans too much towards making Jason and Bruce work together and become a family makes me want to scream, but I do understand that is just me, many people want those two to be buddy-buddy, I, personally, would love to see Jason kick Bruce in the balls and tell him to lose his number.
Chip Zdarsky in Urban Legends: Cheer.
Ah, yes, I remember the days in which I thought that this could have been something good. Well, I was utterly wrong and I suffered all the way through this mini. I feel like now I can safely say that Zdarsky only wanted to write a Batman book but DC told him, “Hey you can write Batman but it has to be within a Red Hood story, but don’t worry, you don’t have to know much about the Hood guy, just come up with something and write Batman around that”.
I know that’s what happened because I read that story and all we got from it was horrible characterizations for pre-Robin Jason, Robin Jason, Jason Todd and Red Hood. I don’t know how he did it but yes, he managed to mess it all up.
From Jason not really wanting to be Robin and acting recklessly every step of the way, to secret desires of a perfect family with Bruce and so many other people that he couldn’t care about, Urban Legends: Cheer is the perfect book to avoid at all costs if you believe that the concept of “Batfamily” is the biggest lie, DC is trying to profit off this time around.
Zdarsky also nerfed Jason in ways that I thought DC only wanted to nerf Dick Grayson. But I was able to see that I was wrong. Zdarsky’s run also pushed some of the most disastrous narratives that DC really wants readers to believe like: Robin Jason wasn’t good at his job, he was too reckless and ultimately his death was his own fault. Yay! I want to cry!
I will give Zdarsky two points for at the very least showing that Red Hood wants to protect children and that he has a huge issue with how the drug trade is controlled and abused in Gotham City, it had been a while since we had seen that aspect of Jason’s Red Hood make an appearance.
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It’s just too many writers completely missing the point of Red Hood’s character or simply writers agreeing to destroy Jason’s uniqueness in the DC Universe so DC (as the publisher) can further push the abomination that is the “Batfamily” in comics’ canon.
I do agree with you Anon when you say that Jason isn’t just a “bad boy” but I also don’t think that we can call UtRH Jason “dangerously insane”. Personally, I will only use that last description for BftC and Batman and Robin Jason, those two were dangerously insane indeed.
UtRH Jason was very meticulous in who he wanted dead and who got to live. He entered Gotham’s most dangerous world and he had to make a big entrance, he invited the eight most prosperous street dealers to a meeting, showed up with the decapitated heads of each of their right-hand men and an AK-47 and said:
“I am offering you a deal. I will be running the drug trade from now on. You will go about your business as usual. You will kick up forty percent to me. That is a much better deal than the Black Mask will give you. In return, you will have total protection from both the Black Mask and Batman. The catch? You stay away from kids and schoolyards. No dealing to children, got it? If you do, you’re dead.”
This was Red Hood! Red Hood wanted to control the drug trade in Gotham because he knew that Gotham is far too corrupt and filled with drug lords for him to just want to eradicate drugs from Gotham. If he had tried that he would have been a dumbass, but he wasn’t. He didn’t want to start a gang war and get innocent people killed because of it, he wanted to set the rules of his new Empire and he had to start with the street-level drug dealers, from there he grew until he became a major pain in Black Mask’s ass.
We went from Jason wanting to control the drug trade and take over Gotham’s underworld so people like Black mask couldn’t have people work for him (or being dependent on him) when they were still in high school or were in a vulnerable position, to Jason fighting a war for a mystic land because he was their “Chosen One”. DC really wanted to do something grand (yet boring) with Jason instead of sticking to a street-level vigilante that could have become a Drug Lord to control the drug trade of a city that is so filled with crime and corruption that it can’t be saved by anyone.
Batman doesn’t eradicate crime, he “controls” it, puts a blank it over it, lets it nap up until it wakes up once more to make more mess.
Red Hood had other plans, certain criminals didn’t get to nap, or, better said, they would get to nap forever.
So, no. I wouldn’t call that “dangerously insane”, I will call that “vigilante that believes himself judge, jury and executioner” of a city that is drowning in crime and corruption.
Anyway, I hope you have a really nice week Anon and thank you so much for sending me this ask!
#jason todd#red hood#under the red hood#red hood and the outlaws#dc comics#future state red hood#three jokers#bftc#asksss
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I really wanna know what happened during the painful bath that Nanda promised Jameson a while back. Baths in whump have the potential to be so soothing and excruciating at the same time, which kinda fits Jameson’s whole character don’t you think?
CW: Pet whump, dehumanizing language, intimate whumper, dubcon touch NSFW (not explicit), implied dubcon (fade to black), referenced blood and whipping, sadistic whumper, creepy whumper, creepy comfort, drowning, talk of sui (to escape torture), implied death by drowning (unnamed oc)
r/LetsTalkTrueCrime
NEW VIDEOS of the Box Boy Killer! Never Before Seen!
•Posted by u/oshaycanyousee 14h ago
So I got a really good response to my short series on the mysterious Box Boy Serial Killer (you can find my previous write-ups here, here, and here).
Well, recently I discovered something entirely new that I think you'd enjoy getting a look at! Found among personal items belonging to Nathaniel "Nanda" Matthew Benson: a medium-sized external hard drive containing nearly 750GB of photo and video content.
The hard drive was labeled 'Personal'. Police stated there was a second hard drive labeled 'Professional', but what content was on there, if anything, has never been released.
Technically, neither has this. Someone from within the police department leaked a bunch of videos and photos at some point, and I was able to get ahold of them thanks to a friend of a friend (who shall go unnamed, don't want to tip off whatever FBI agent is watching his internet activity, haha... or is it her or their internet activity... FBI Agent will never know.)
In my writeup on Nanda Benson's life with his Boxie, I didn't have a ton of details on how they interacted with each other. Finding this trove of info definitely changed a few things on how I view their relationship.
Take a look and let me know if it makes you maybe reconsider a few details, too. FYI: This does have nudity and some spicy times! Nothing worse than you've seen on HBO or whatever, but like, fair warning.
[Embedded Video Player With Title: Bathtime With Boxie: NSFW and Yet Somehow Still Oddly Wholesome Kind Of]
The video begins with the tub already filled with water, hot enough to gently steam. It's a gigantic soaker tub, large enough for four people to easily sit without crowding, nestled alongside a window in a truly enormous, incredibly well-lit bathroom. Everything is in shades of white, which makes the person in the frame even more immediately the enter of attention.
A young man with short, shaggy brown hair and dark eyes sits in the tub. He looks up, wrinkling his nose and glancing away. Only then does a bright red mark, darkening already to a bruise become obvious on one side of his neck.
"Don't fucking tape this," He says. His voice is slightly rough-edged, as if he's been screaming, and he sounds exhausted. "That's weird. Not taping the fucking but taping the after bit."
Red welts are visible above the line of water, marking his shoulders and arms. The welts are a deep red that is nearly purple - they are surrounded by bright red irritated flesh.
"Oh, but I like you like this." The voice holding the camera is deep and amused. The camera wobbles slightly and then settles, and soon enough a second man enters the screen. It's clearly Nanda Benson himself, stark naked.
Where the Boxie is heavily bruised and beaten, Nanda himself would be spotless if he weren’t flecked with drying red spots that are clearly the pet's blood.
"Yeah, well." The pet shifts to the side as Nanda steps in, hissing softly in contentment at the sudden burst of heat when he enters the water. He settles down against a bench set in to the side of the tub, and opens his arms.
The pet moves immediately into them, without hesitating. His eyes flicker nervously back to the camera and then away again.
"Yeah, well-... yeah well what, pet?" Nanda laughs as he pulls the Boxie into his lap, toying one hand already damp from the tub over the ring at the front of his collar. "Cat got your tongue after that fun we had together?"
"Tongue's the only thing you didn't take," The pet responds, almost playfully flirtatious. "I guess you'd miss it too fucking much."
"If I took your voice, who would call me a fucking idiot before I fuck him into the ground, hm?"
The pet flushes, looking down at the water, at the slightest pink of his blood still running into it. "Sir-"
"Ssssshhhh. I like you insulting me. I like punishing you for it more." Nanda mouths at the unmarked side of the pet's neck, pulling him back-to-chest where he sits, so he's facing the camera directly again. The pet's back arches when Nanda's teeth dig in, making a soft, high-pitched whine as his head drops back onto the man's shoulder.
The camera picks up the quiet splash of water as the pet tries to move away and is pulled roughly right back, catches the refracted sight of Nanda's hands on the pet's thighs forcing them apart, each of his calves on the outside of Nanda's thighs.
"Please-... H-hurts-"
"You love it," Nanda whispers, and bites down again, right into the crook of the pet's neck where it meets his shoulder. The cry this time is wild with a mix of pain and something darker, the pet's hands moving helplessly up and back to clasp just behind Nanda's head. His back is nearly a bow, every muscle trembling with a need to escape and to hold perfectly still, both at once.
When Nanda pulls back this time, the camera picks up the blood smeared on his teeth before he runs his tongue over them. It finds the light glinting off the fresh blood welling from the new bite along the pet's shoulder.
"It's too much," The pet says, struggling to sit back up straight, turning to look at Nanda. For a moment, his shaggy damp hair and angle hides his expression from the camera's gaze.
The twist of his spine, though, shows the bloodied whiplashes making their way up his back nearly to the nape of his neck.
"It's too much," The pet repeats, in a whisper. "Please. Please, it's too fucking much, if you fuck me again I'll fucking die. Please."
"Now, pet," Nanda teases, flirts shamelessly, running his wet hands through the pet's hair. He grips on tight and forces his head back again. The profile of the pet's face shows the slight bump of a broken nose healed almost perfectly, but not quite. The gasp he makes when Nanda's free hand presses over the welts on his chest is loud enough for the camera to catch. "You know you don't get to say when it's too much."
"You'll f-fucking kill me," The pet protests, voice tight from the angle forcing his collar to dig painfully into his throat. "Please, I... everything hurts so much..."
"You love the pain." Nanda's eyes look up to meet the camera before a more sinister smile finds its way across his face. "I know what you can take better than you do, pet, and I think you can handle one more. Sssshhh, here we go. There..." Nanda exhales softly as the two of them shift in the tub, the pet making a soft pained sound, his hips rolling as he is worked slowly down into position.
Then Nanda chuckles and slides his entire arm over the welts marking the pet's torso, holding him tightly in place. "Now take a deep breath."
"Wh-what?" The pet's eyes widen, comprehension coming a half-second too late. "Wait, don't-"
Nanda's hand gripped into the pet's hair plunges him forwards, bent at the waist, forcing the Box Boy's head suddenly under the water. The pet struggles desperate trying to get his head back up to breathe. Nanda grunts in a rhythm as his hips snap up and down again. He groans, "So fucking tight, goddamn I love you, you fucking slut for me-"
[/END VIDEO]
The video cuts off there, but my friend tells me the rest of it is basically the kind of stuff you have to pay a monthly fee for everywhere else on the internet.
But there's another video, from way later, that I find a really interesting contrast and comparison. Same friend got me this one. It involves Robert, whose write-up you can see right here.
[EMBEDDED VIDEO: Titled Holy Shit, No Wonder He Killed Him]
The screen is black for a few seconds, with the sound of someone taking the cap off a camera before things come into blurry view and then slowly into focus.
The bathroom in this video is tiny. It's barely large enough for everything in it, and a person sitting on the toilet will damn near bash their knees into the side of the bathtub. The grout in the tile floor is dark with old stains, and the tile itself needs either serious scrubbing or an exorcism.
Sitting naked in the bathtub is a young man with long blond hair that hangs in filthy, dirty clumps down to his shoulders. His face is streaked with mud and worse, and he has a black eye that has nearly swelled his left eye shut entirely. His hands are bound with rope stained brown with dried blood, held up in front of him.
His one good eye, maybe blue, follows with a kind of resigned terror the person behind the camera.
He sits in water up to his waist, but by the way he is shivering, it's clear that the water is not even warm, let alone hot. Further bruises mark his ribcage and his legs. One leg juts out in front, and something about it seems like it might be broken.
The camera is handheld, panning slowly from the young man's torn and lacerated heels and feet through his bruised leg - one swollen - and then back up to his face.
"Tell me your name." The voice is Robert Weber's.
The young man's mouth twists in a snarl that fades as quickly as it came and he looks away, to the side of the tub marked with deep soap scum. When Robert's house is searched, there are scratches in the tub as though someone had clawed that deeply into the sides in an attempt to escape. "It's..." The young man inhales, winces at the pain. "It's twe-... Twenty-One. M-My name is... Twenty-One."
"Good. And-... what did we practice saying next?"
The man's jaw trembles visibly onscreen. Then he says, flat and numb, "My name is Twenty-One and I have... two weeks to l-live."
"Perfect. Now I promised you a good scrubbing if you played along downstairs-" The young man flinches, closing his good eye and curling up in the tub as best he can. "-and I will keep that promise." There's a pause, jostling as the camera is slotted into a tripod to continue filming. Then, Robert's voice is suddenly deafening. "Dog! Get the fuck in here!"
The door opens with the creak of hinges deeply in need of oiling, and then the Boxie moves into view. He's skinny, malnourished and underfed, and his hair is roughly cut short in uneven hunks. He has bald spots worn in by the muzzle that is buckled over his mouth, making his breathing an audible rasp. He glares with unhidden hatred.
"Give Twenty-One a bath," Robert says, and his hand moves into view as he pats the Boxie on the head. The Boxie flinches but then forces himself to hold still, closing his eyes as the pat turns into prolonged petting. His muzzle is unbuckled and then removed. Robert's fingers drift over his bald spots, play along the red marks pressed into his skin by the muzzle, move over a scar cut into one side of his mouth that wasn't there in the video with Nanda.
The Boxie is naked but for an old dog collar around his neck.
Robert hums, disappears entirely from view. The door opens and closes again. The sound of a lock clicks.
The Boxie looks at the young man in the bathtub, who doesn't look up. "Fuck this shit," The Boxie mumbles, but he moves - dragging one of his legs a little, and there are ropes tied around his ankles that ensure he can do little more than shuffle - and finally kneels next to the tub. "Are you going to be a shit?"
The young man looks at him with surprise. "You... I've never heard you talk before," He whispers, looking fearfully to the side towards the door.
"You've never seen me without the fucking muzzle before, either," The pet replies. His voice is far rougher than the first video, suggesting long-term damage to his vocal chords. "I asked you something. Are you going to fight me and be a shit about this or no?"
The young man hesitates, then shakes his head. "I couldn't fight if I wanted to anymore," He says, like a man confessing a sin. "It all hurts too much. You know? I had a girlfriend-"
"Stop it." The pet cuts him off and leans over, picking up a stiff washcloth and soaking it in the water until it's soft enough to use again, running it over the young man's shoulders. For all the edge of meanness in his voice, the pet's touch is clearly gentle. "You're going to fucking die here, better if you don't talk about stuff that gets you fucked up first. Forget her."
The young man leans over to give easier access to his back. The soft whimpers he makes show that there must be some grievous injuries back there that the camera can't see. "I-I know I will. Die, I mean. Do I really have-... is it really two weeks?"
"Yeah." The pet takes a bar of soap and runs it over his own hands, rubbing them together to work up a lather. The soap found in Robert Weber's house after his death is Irish Spring and Dove - it is believed he used different soap for different captives according to his own odd whims. "He's put little heart shapes on a calendar he marks off. He'll hurt you a little worse every fucking day and then make you beg for him to end it."
The young man slowly nods, looking at his bound wrists. There's a soft sniff, but he seems too tired for tears. "There's no chance of getting away, is there."
It's not really a question.
The pet answers anyway.
"You're the twenty-first, and none of the others have. What do you think?"
"I-I can't do this."
"You have to." The pet gets a red Solo cup sitting on the side of the tub, fills it with water, and pours it down the young man's back. He hisses and cries out softly in pain. "He doesn't exactly ask your goddamn preferences."
"Help me escape," The young man pleads. "Help me get out of here."
"I'm fucking hobbled," the pet snaps. "He'll be on us both before we even made it out of the hallway. You think I'm fucking stupid? I'm the only one who might not die if I stay good. Come on, lean forward so I can wash your hair."
The young man moves to obey, hands disappearing beneath the filthy bathwater, and then he turns, looking over his shoulder. He and the pet share a long, silent moment. Then he leans over far enough to put his mouth nearly to the pet's ear and whispers something so low that the camera doesn't pick up the words.
The pet inhales sharply.
He looks at the door, and then back to the young man.
"Are you sure?" He asks, and the edge is totally gone from his voice, now.
The young man nods, slowly. "Please," he says, a little louder. "If I have to-... please. Not him. I-I know you'll get punished, but... please. God, please, just this one thing." His hands come back up to grip onto the pet's hand where it lays along the side of the tub.
The young man leans forwards, and his forehead gently rests against the pet's. They are silent for a long moment.
"Please, don't let him be the one to kill me," The young man says. "I know I'm g-going to die, but... let me take that a-... away from him. Please. God, I don't even know your name, but-... please."
The pet swallows, then nods, tipping his head back to press a kiss to the young man's forehead. "I don't have a name. What's your name? I'll remember it. Your real name."
The young man's throat bobs and he whispers into the pet's ear again.
He sits back up, leaning over until some of his long hair falls into the water. "I'm-... I'm ready."
The pet takes a deep, deep breath, moves up to kneeling with his thighs vertical, lays both hands on the back of the young man's head, and says, "I hope it's better, wherever you go."
Then he pushes the young man's head underneath the water.
[/END VIDEO]
According to my friend, there's more to that video as well, but obviously it's been cut to take out the end of the poor guy. Now, my friend swears up and down the pet is crying at the end of the video, that he can see tears, but I'm not sure.
That doesn't really line up with the pet killing people before this, you know?
But one thing it does prove is that the Boxie knows the name of one of the unidentified victims. If he could be found, we could give that man back his name and get his family the closure they deserve.
I know some of you argued with me last time that the Boxie is clearly a VICTIM and not a PERPETRATOR, and I definitely admit this second video maybe suggests you're on to something there.
But I still think we have a Boxie killer on our hands here - I just think maybe I was wrong about why he's killing them at all.
I guess we'll find out if he kills again.
-
@astrobly @finder-of-rings @whump-tr0pes @raigash @eatyourdamnpears @orchidscript @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @boxboysandotherwhump @outofangband @whumptywhumpdump @thehopelessopus @downriver914 @justabitofwhump @butwhatifyouwrite @newandfiguringitout @yet-another-heathen @nonsensical-whump @oops-its-whump @endless-whump @cubeswhump @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @whumpiary @burtlederp
#whump#jameson bb#nanda#robert#epistolary writing#epistolary#epistolary fiction#drowning tw#jameson's masochism#masochism tw#overstimulation#referenced whipping#bruises tw#blood tw#pet whump#multiple whumpees#character death tw#unnamed oc death#death by drowning#filmed torture#recorded torture#recorded whump#defiant whumpee#angry whumpee#sadistic whumper#intimate whumper#creepy whumper#bbu#box boy universe#box boy
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Hi, Ary, very inactive ex-mutual(i think???) here. Good to see you thriving! ♥ It's been a while since I've dipped my head into cockles stuff. Could I perchance maybe ask uuuuum tf is going on??? lol I see Mish apparently confirmed he used to stay over at Jensen's in Van, and heard newbs were apparently freaking out about it and getting a bit messy, which I get that, business as usual. But I'm also seeing shit about spin-offs? And Jared getting in a twitter fight with Jensen, causing/resulting in stans to going feral and sending hate?? I know you're not as big a fan of Jar, but that's part of why I figured I'd ask you, you usually have a really level head about this kinda stuff. If you don't wanna answer publically, or at all, that's totally chill!
Hey, Rhi! We're still mutuals! Of course we're still mutuals! When I saw the notification of your ask, I was like "Hey! I haven't seen you in a while!" and my husband was like "???" and I said "Tumblr" and he said "Oh."
It was a wild time haha.
In any case, welcome back to the dumpster fire! We are obviously still a mess. So to catch you up, I guess I will start by summarizing both before and after the finale (not sure where you left off so this might be redundant for you) ... basically, it became obvious as the end of the show neared that Jensen was not on board with the plan for the finale; although Jared never stopped singing its praises.
We got confirmation of this during a zoom interview where Jensen said that he actually went into the writers room as well as called Kripke to basically voice how he didn't agree with the direction the final season was going, but he was shot down on all fronts. In another interview, he was asked "What would you tell your younger self going into this career?" And Jensen responded with: "I would tell myself to just keep your head down and do the work" meaning, "Don't try to change things because you can't." I also think that this whole situation is what he wrote "Let Me Be" about for his first Radio Company album, but that is just my own speculation. All of his reluctance, even though he always followed it up with "But I eventually saw the value in the script" or "I came around in the end" (which never sounded sincere, and I don't think he was really trying to sound sincere) made us all very nervous about what was to come for 15x20; and of course, when the last two episodes aired, we saw just how badly they fucked it up.
After the awful finale, the entire fandom became aware of the CW's heavy handed role in the thing, basically squeezing all the life out of SPN to shape it into a ramp from which Walker could launch itself. They not only erased all the love and joy and representation that Cas's love confession gave us, they also tore apart the things that made sense about the bond between Sam and Dean, making it really just about Sam-- and therefore Jared, which of course, Jared seemed to be fine with ... even though no one else was. Misha barely said anything during the finale, and a few of the other actors talked about the show ending in various posts, but Jared tweeted up a storm ... and Jensen? Jensen just sat in sexy-silent resentment of the whole thing. He didn't tweet, he didn't post, he didn't say a word once he no longer had to, and I think that's because he was already going full-steam-ahead on his plans for redemption.
Which brings us to Chaos Machine-- Jensen and Danneel's new production company that is being run by a queer creative director and has a mantra of inclusivity and representation woven throughout it's fabric; and apparently, the first story that Jensen wanted to tell through this new platform is the origin story of Sam and Dean's parents; so last week (?) he announced the upcoming production of "The Winchesters" -- the untold love story of John and Mary. Obviously, John is not the most likable character from the show, so the idea was met with a lot of resentment when it was first announced, but Jensen has gone on to say that he is excited to take on the task of telling the "true" story behind these characters-- the one that makes sense with the pre-established canon and doesn't reject it. So, given that, the idea is being mulled over with a bit more optimism from the fandom.
Who isn't being optimistic though?
Jared Padalecki.
When Jensen made this announcement on Twitter, many of his friends and coworkers congratulated him, but not Jared. Jared responded with a passive aggressive: "I'm happy for you, man, but I wish I didn't hear about it through Twitter." This of course, sent all the die-hard Jared fans into a tizzy and they immediately began asking him if he was serious (hoping it was just a joke-- we all hoped it was because there would be fallout no matter what one's opinion on Jared is). Instead of leaving it there though or just deleting that tweet, Jared went on to tweet some more, saying that he was being serious that he didn't know about the plans for the prequel, and that he was "gutted" that Sam apparenlty wouldn't be included (mind you, this a prequel to SPN... meaning BEFORE Sam and Dean were even born, so how could Sam be included? But Dean is apparently narrating this story so maybe Jared thought Sam should be helping to narrate it? I don't know). But Jared being Jared couldn't just leave that there, he then went on to tweet at Robbie Thompson who was announced as a writer for "The Winchesters" so then Jared went off on him too, calling him "Brutus" and a "coward" acting like Robbie betrayed him (speculation is-- Robbie refused to write for Walker, so Jared is pissed that he essentially chose Jensen over him). He did fairly quickly, remove that tweet attacking Robbie, but of course the damage was done at that point. And it truly only took his first tweet calling out Jensen for some people to be like "Jared-- that sucks if you didn't know but why are you saying any of this publicly?"
As you might know, Jared has had issues in the past with posting hurtful things on social media, and has even used it as a tool for attack before-- calling out customer service agents and public workers that he felt have wronged him, which is bad enough ... but for him to then do the same thing to his best friend of well over a decade? Many people who had once liked him or at least gave him the benefit of the doubt (I used to ...) stopped after this latest twitter tantrum.
However, some people have suspected for some time that J2 had a falling out either shortly before the finale or just after. Their public/social media interactions have seemed awkward, stilted or even non-existent in moments that they normally wouldn't be. In the past year, when Walker premiered, Jensen didn't say much about his friend's new venture other than a "Congrats. buddy" here and there. Later, we learned that Jensen refused to work on the show ... Jared said he make him do it, drag Jensen to the set "kicking and screaming" which made many fans quirk up an eyebrow because, why would Jensen put up a fight unless the two weren't as close as they used to be? And then Jensen moved his family to Colorado (either permanently or for an extended period at least) which is notable considering how he moved to Texas seemingly to be closer to Jared, even buying a house that was near his. All this was just speculation though; but it wasn't until Jared's tweet complaining about not knowing about the prequel that the theories behind them falling out, became less theory and more fact.
The day after his twitter tantrum, Jared tweeted again-- not retracting his statements or apologizing, but instead saying that he and Jensen "talked" and were "all good". Jensen then tweeted too, parroting this statement to some degree, which only made the whole thing even more sour in the mouths of the fans. The fact that Jared didn't apologize for his outburst and throwing his friend under the bus, and also the fact that Jensen-- Mr. Sexy Silence, Mr. Never Tweets, Mr. Tech-Ignorant-and-Proud, actually had to POST SOMETHING saying that he and Jared made up, it just screamed OPTICS. It was obviously the work of agents and PR firms and lots of people going "Look, if you two keep beefing, that will mean the death of both of your projects. Even more people will stop watching Walker, and this SPN prequel will never get picked up due to the scandal." So, the two "made nice" publicly to quell the chaos, but in my opinion, it's all too little too late. Jared started a storm that he can't contain now with a little tweet, and it seems like he knows that too because before he talked about him and Jensen making up, he asked that people "not send threats". He could have just as easily said that he shouldn't have made this a public issue and that he's sorry, but instead, he continued to play the victim and stoke the flames by alerting us all to the damage he's done.
Now, like I said before-- I used to give him the benefit of the doubt. I don't think he's an awful human or that he deserves to be attacked or anything, but he is an adult man with very poor judgment and an obvious selfish-streak a mile wide. He should know better, and he should have more respect for his so-called "friends" and "brothers" than to make them targets to public ridicule. I have a hard time believing that Jensen still sees Jared the way he used to, and I wouldn't blame him a bit for wanting to pull away-- especially when he's moving on to so many new and exciting things. Jared certainly deserves happiness just as much as anyone else, but he went on twitter and basically asked for a scandal, and he got one.
The question is now-- was there a motive behind it? Was just looking for a reason to bring his and Jensen's falling out to light-- while making himself looking like the victim in the process? Or did he genuinely not know about the prequel and just decided to go about "not knowing" in the most toxic and hurtful way he could manage?
In any case, that is the drama ... that is the J2 insanity in a rather lengthy nutshell ... that is the tea ... and I hope it all makes sense.
But the good news out of all of this is, Cockles is thriving-- they are happy and in love and Jensen calls Misha "Babe" and Misha misses waking up to see Jensen in the morning, and they are just as cute and wonderful as can be.
So, I will end that there. I am so glad to see you back, and I hope I answered all your questions in a way that made sense ... I tried anyway!
💖💖💖
#omg#I don't even know if this makes sense#this took way too long to write#j2#cockles#long post#spn family#so glad you see you back again my dear#welcome to hell#it's hotter now
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